


Languished Serenity

by Talontales



Series: The Talon legacy [10]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Confrontational Romance, Dialogue Heavy, Don't copy to another site, Drama, F/F, Humor, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-01-20 17:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 64,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21285098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talontales/pseuds/Talontales
Summary: Becoming a member and maintaining the tenets of the Jedi Order has been an arduous enough experience for Elu'ravi, with its plethora of rules and expectations, but when a stubborn, brassy gun-for-hire enters her life, she's truly tested. Why does the Force insist on shattering her composure? Is it even worth ignoring the appeal of liberation?
Relationships: Trans-Female Bounty Hunter/Original Female Twi'lek Character
Series: The Talon legacy [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/414158
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. First come, first bump

**Author's Note:**

> **Main characters:** Jovana Vlasic (Trans-Female Human Bounty Hunter), Elu'ravi (Female Twi'lek Jedi OC)  
**Secondary characters:** Jun Seros, Mako, Satele Shan, Shariss Kartur
> 
> _Hello there. I'm Claire Talon and this is a smaller continuation of the Talon Legacy storyline._   
_Compared to my previous lengthy fic, however, this is not a direct sequel, but it is connected. Therefore, if you haven't read any stories in the Talon Legacy, this might be difficult to follow._   
_It begins during act 1 of the Bounty Hunter class story and ends in the midst of Silent Crack Of An Empire (a.k.a. post-class story but pre-SoR)._
> 
> _If you read SCOAE, you'll know that Cierah briefly mentioned Jovana had another girlfriend (they're both poly) in [chapter 84](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594068/chapters/47574124). Part of the purpose for this fic is to tell the story of how this second romance came to be, but Elu'ravi will also become a new companion to Jovana, a replacement for Skadge, who was killed in [chapter 33](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594068/chapters/32844399), after his betrayal._   
_There are some parallels to Bery and Lenorr's romance in this one, and that's intentional. Bery gets a Sith, Jovana gets a Jedi; they're both hostile to begin with; get into some fights etc._
> 
> _For appearance references I have a [blog page](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/talon-legacy.html) you can look at, with screenshots._

Neon lights that flash with the brightness which is nearly blinding; an impenetrable, unlimited yellow-brown smog that sails across and smears the entirety of the sky; towers tall as mountains on other, less populated worlds, which impales the heavens like industrial swords; air speeders which go freely, at times in every which way, equal to mechanical flies on a planetary carcass.

Elu’ravi has visited no small chunk of planets that circle the galaxy’s systems – though this is, celestial classification-wise, a moon – some of them plenty more impressive, bustling or sizable than this one. But what Nar Shaddaa lacks in top-of-the-list attributes, it makes up for with an inherent disquiet, a soul-eating suspense which may escape the notice of those blind to the Force’s reach.  
It’s not the disconcerting visions, not the polluted air, or the terribly dense crowds, not considered in their separate capacities, at least. That wouldn’t be sufficient. Each of these fragments on their own would be more than a viable challenge for a Jedi to tangle with and not crumble. No, it’s when they’re a big mashup of plagues that everything is sent into an intense, foul gale.

This world is teeming not just with a girth of life force, but sour emotions – fear, hatred, malcontent, corruption. It’s all-consuming, frantic in every corner. It virtually takes a corporeal form, which is perceivable via the Force for those with the gifts to command it. This can be shaped into a boon for when one is hunting a particular value, but any way you cut it, it’s a distracting factor, indelibly so for Elu. She even finds Coruscant – a significantly more substantive, albeit gentler world – arduous enough.

Nevertheless, she won’t sanction herself to be overly bewildered or infested with mental affliction. No, that won’t do – she’s a Jedi Knight and can lean on meditation and her training for security and stability. She didn’t go through initiation as a child and then years as a padawan under the care of an exacting master, to get knocked off balance in this trifle. This mission today is arguably the foremost momentous task she’s ever attended, a turning point in her relatively short career. She can’t fail people here – not herself, not the team, not her master.

For indeed, Elu is not working away here on her own. She is a component in a marginally more numerous team; although no one can proclaim that they’re an army, or even a squadron of some concern. Two spec ops troops are stationed in the district somewhere, available in case of an offhand emergency. Furthermore, she’s joined by a light share of SIS agents. The latter sort is chiefly roll called over comm channels, being the eyes, ears and to a certain degree, the brains of this operation. Although Elu would like to put forth that she’s no dimwit either. Can’t be a successful Jedi if you’re not somewhat sensible, right?

After thoroughly scouring and flushing the terrain by and large where they’re meant to launch their op, Elu ensures that the team is fully prepped and armed, using the short-range comm units to let everyone report in. Then, it finally grows into an hour where she’s required to make one final call, of a partially personal nature.  
In a shaded alleyway across the street from a shabby, worn-down cantina-esque facility in the lower sectors of the moon, she fetches her long-distance holocomm, taps in a frequency and then triggers it.

The hologram that is projected at the top depicts an older male human, adorned in white robes lined with brown and entwined with some armor. The hood is pulled over his head, as is in character for him. His fractionally wrinkled skin is beige, his grave eyes dark brown and the thin moustache and goatee drooping from his face are grey from a many years back now.

On the flip side, the human gets visuals on a markedly younger twi’lek, somewhere in her early to mid-20s. Her hide is of a darker tint of yellow, matched with vivid blue eyes and clothed in unassuming black robes. A leather headband is attached to her ear cones and forehead, posing an elegant metal piece at its center, though nothing too conspicuous as to raise suspicion of her status.  
Her build is of the heavier and curvier variety, plump some might deem. Her lekku are covered in edged black tattoo stripes, which end in two pointed arrows across her cheeks. Resting above them is a field of freckles to her nose. Her face is uncoated of cosmetics, at least for now. She is not averse to the application of such materials, which a ton of Jedi are, but in a serious assignment it has no place.

Elu briefly dips her head with some reverence.  
“Master Seros.”

Jedi Master Jun Seros solemnly nods his head in turn and then lays his hands behind his back.  
“Elu’ravi. Is it set?”

“Yes, master. We’re now in position.”

“And you have the correct location?”

“Of that, there can be no doubt.” Her sight goes off track for a moment, at their destination. “Looking at the Chromed Rancor cantina in the Serebas district as we speak, master.”

Jun mentally doublechecks what of the data they’re in possession of that he can recall, but ultimately, he can only verify her determination.  
“Very good, you've done well. It would appear to all measurable protocols, you’re on the verge of plunging into this scenario. Not that I have cause for great concern, in light of your track record, but I do hope you’re ready.”

Elu’s round face scrunches up a smidgen, unsatisfied with the words that are sent her way. She’s not overly jolted by the claim, but…  
“Master, do you mistrust me?”

“No, I do not”, he clarifies patiently, “but even if you’ve now risen to the rank of a Knight, you don’t quite hold the experience which the brunt of Jedi Knights do. This comes with time.  
And the task I’ve entrusted you with, it’s…not unproblematic.”

“I’ve partaken of missions with peril which far outmatches this situation”, Elu quickly asserts.

“Perhaps, but not of this parameter. Your past experiences revolve around primarily combat and defensive scenarios. This is different in many respects. I haven’t decided if you’re prepared.”

Elu struggles to repress her irritation with his apprehension. Hasn’t she illuminated him to her talents at this stage?  
“Master, please…I’m not a padawan anymore. Haven’t been for months.”

Jun stands wordlessly for a moment to process what she’s telling him, prior to a faint sigh.  
“I’m sorry, that was unfitting of me”, he admonishes himself. “I should be treating you as a true Knight, not my student.  
But that aside, I retain the role as your superior and I note that your position as a Knight is not a comprehensive one. You’ve survived risks that few could, which is commendable. However, unless I am thoroughly mistaken, you have not cooperated with agents of the SIS, correct?”

“Well, yes…”

“And, not to mention that this is also your first actual visit to Nar Shaddaa. You can sense the abundance of life on that moon, can’t you? How it bursts with emotions, with disrespect for it and the despair?”

The twi’lek bites her bottom lip for a few seconds.  
“I can’t…fully tune that out, no…”

“I’m all too aware. Vigilance is key, together with resilience, for whatever you bear. This hurdle you’re confronting won’t be elementary, nor always direct. And an ache can rear up at any time. To stay with it, you have to maintain your sense of self, but I have faith in you. If you stumble, recall your lessons and the Code, in case anything goes awry. It’s been a guidance in tough times for me.”

She doesn’t say it outright, but Elu doesn’t wish to be impatient, yet she acknowledges some of that is part of her flaws. She’s not the gold standard of Jedi and no one will put her up as a poster child. She doubts even master Seros would.  
“I guarantee I’ll be on my best behavior, master, if you doubt me. That said, getting bogged down in basics won’t get this mission to bear fruit any faster.”

“Fair enough. Have you confirmed the presence of your target?”

“We have indeed – Colonel Sellar is here. The SIS staff can corroborate, if necessary.”

“I don’t prescribe such extended briefings, but I’m pleased you’re on track. Enter and secure the Colonel, quietly. You do not wish to be perceived as what you are.  
To reiterate what you’ve likely already established - give the denizens a wide berth, for the larger number here will be some semblance of a criminal. They’re fairly prone to violent tendencies on that moon, with the Hutt Cartel at the wheel, who endorse it. Getting caught in the middle would be inconvenient.”

“Yes, master.”

“I would also emphasize that you treat the Colonel with a measure of respect. He may have forsaken his old vigil, but he was once Republic military, black ops or no. We’re allies in spirit, if not in emblems. To reel him in and prove we’re on the same side, you must bear that in mind. He’s valuable going forward.”

Elu exhales from her nose.  
“I know, master. Do I have to quote myself on the ‘best behavior’ bit again?”

The older Jedi’s brow wrinkles noticeably.  
“Elu’ravi…”

Right. Impatience. What a hassle…  
“…sorry, master. I’ll go as per your design.”

He portrays no elements of a grudge for mouthing off slightly.  
“Good luck, Knight Elu’ravi. And may the Force be with you.”

She tilts her head down once more.  
“Thank you, master. I won’t fail you.”

And with that, she powers down the item and pockets it. She shifts her head left and right, to survey her vicinity and then lifts her hand to dispatch a signal to the team members that she’s sure are keeping tabs on her. Then it’s high time to advance on the doors.  
The surface of the cantina is reasonably showy in spite of its rundown conditions, with marginally dimmed green and blue lights illuminating the bouncers supervising the door and blinking holographic dancers, largely twi’lek ones. It sets a vile taste in the back of her mouth. She’s not certain if this…establishment provides ‘services’ of that ilk, but she’s no fan of seeing girls exploited like this, explicitly her own species, treated poorly as they are in the vast realms of the galaxy. On the wall overhead is a bright purple neon sign with the name in huttese and a tiny stylized logo of a roaring rancor. Elu finds that feature terribly cute, but it doesn’t detract from the overall sliminess.

As she takes a shot at bypassing the queue outside from a wide flank, one of the robust houk bouncers catches her in his view and lumbers in to intercept her.  
“Whoa, what’d think yer up to, sweetheart?”, his low tone asks in huttese, naturally. “Club’s full and gonna be for a couple more hours. Just gonna have to get in line like the rest of these chumps.”

He’s taller than Elu, hands down, probably got a foot on her or more. Furthermore, he does nothing to conceal the pistol at his belt. A regular person would move back and obey.  
But Elu isn’t your average citizen. Subtly, she raises her hand and sweeps it in front of her, while staring deeply into his small, monochromatic, orange eyes, within his thick, corrugated face.  
“I’d just like to speak with a friend who's inside, if that’s alright.”

Mind tricks aren’t her forte, so if this man possesses a vehement psyche, she would not come far.  
Opportunely, his own will is presumably in the scale of a normal person’s and his expression softens as he steps to the side to give her room.  
“Alright, but be careful in there. Plenty o’ sleazes who’d take advantage of a cute thing like you.”

She smiles sweetly, but without sincerity.  
“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”

Shortly thereafter, she slides into the unknown which lurks within the belly. With her life as a Jedi, she’s not exactly the prototypical patron of any party-designated haunt, but she’s frequented a couple of cantinas previously. But this one has its own personal flair, a rhythm to it of higher proportion. This is not exclusively a cantina, but a merged cantina and club, which implies a greater severity of disorder. Standing at the doorstep, the wave of it rams into her – the people in every corner, every dark space. It isn’t packed to the brim, but there can easily be a few hundred in here.

Added to this dense mixture is the booming trance music that discharges from a pile of speakers on each wall. There is a discrete zone for dancing in the center, and from it oozes lights both on the floor and the roof.  
The clientele is vividly diverse, a flurry of species from scores of origins, and visibly from multiple genders at that. The leading number is in the core, their bodies pressed and grinding against each other, but this doesn’t account for the whole shebang. There are tables with customers sipping colorful drinks, corner tables with sabacc and a handful of screens with visitors laying down bets.

Inhaling a deep breath, Elu pulls her clothes tighter around herself, and then wades into the compact crowds, occasionally squinting whenever the rainbow-range of lights batter her vision. The electronic tunes are half deafening, which is unsettling to her – not to mention that this flavor of music is not to her taste. She swallows her distress, but it doesn’t evaporate. Does anyone actually revel in the cadence and flow of it, or are they merely too intoxicated to give a care in the world? This drives her to yearn for the tranquility of Tython more than any distinct element.

Along the way to more restful slots, she has a tricky time staying clear of the mass of individuals. She bumps into no shortage of them and stumbles at least twice when a sudden jerk or misstep occurs from those near. It doesn’t help that they simply skip granting her any manner of leeway, so she’s forced to literally jam herself into whatever gaps she can discern and thrust ahead.

Eventually, she’s closing fast on the exit to this swamp. Freedom, in a sense, but it’s now onto the final stretch. If she just speeds it up by a microsecond, that would be…a relief.  
Therefore, she shuts her eyes and propels herself forward with fervor. But go figure, since she can’t catch a break – this all ends up with that she bumbles right into another person. Not ferociously, but undeniably.

What she collides with is the torso of a marginally taller woman, whose body is built more for muscle, with a toned shape. Though it’s too shimmering in the area to see concretely, Elu’s hands land on the lady’s belly and arm, and by extension sense it tactilely.  
Elu stops and assesses the woman, gleaning whether she’ll be a thorn in the twi’lek’s side on this path. But a glance at the face identifies no immediate traces of anger. This is a human by the body shape for sure, and the dark brown skin. She has eyes, so that rules out miraluka, though this one possesses a drop of anomaly on her own. However, thinking it through, it’s plausible that this person is decked out with cosmetic augmentations, as Elu can see that the asymmetrical bob cut hair is crimson red, a tint that she’s sure humans conventionally do not obtain. Moreover, the pale yellow eyes are, again, not a natural human tincture to her knowledge. Could be lenses too, but how ingrained they line up, Elu reasons that it may be more.  
Her attire is casual but suitable, being clothed in juniper-green cargo pants, two metal wristbands, white sneakers and a black tank-top with big white letters reading ‘Break the limit’ in huttese. Due to the facial tattoo on the right side – painted like a black barbed serpentine creature equipped with outstretched claws – and the guns, Elu estimates that this could be a gang member. This is Nar Shaddaa, so being armed in a cantina is standard fare.

“Uh, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to crash into you like that”, says Elu in an effort to get above the music and smiles tentatively. “I can be super clumsy sometimes.”

The human merely shrugs, quite easygoing, not vexed in the slightest, from a look.  
“That’s okay. And you?”

The twi’lek blinks somewhat confusedly.  
“…what?”

The human nudges her right knuckle on her chest.  
“Kinda robust bod. You mighta caught that. Didn’t hurt your pretty face against it, did ya?”

That’s peculiar. Was that…bragging? Elu clears her throat and quickly shakes her head.  
“No, I…I’m fine. Thanks for asking.  
Anyway, I…I’m meeting someone. Excuse me.”  
She then pushes past this lady, but in her rush, it entirely passes her purview by that the human peers after her. Elu is too laser-targeted on the completion of her mission.

Breaking out of the deeper sea of people, she makes for one of the walls, where she stops and spies out towards the figures sitting in relative proximity to herself. She opens her robes and pins her fingers around a datapad. Holding it underneath the layer of her robes to disguise it, she alternates between looking at the images of the man and searching the customers. This is the closest portion of the cantina to the bar, which is where the dossier cited that he tends to hang out at, and intelligence assured them that he’s meant to unwind here.

The pre-black ops picture – when he was involved with the regular spec ops - displayed is of a zabrak somewhere in his late 30s or early 40s with light brown skin, bright green eyes, short and faintly-greying black hair, as well as a line of horns circling the rim of his head. This photo was captured roughly ten years ago and the Colonel himself departed the Republic five years after that. This all ends with an equation that she has to mentally add some age to the man, when cross-referencing with reality.

The luck of the Force must be at her side, for she tracks him quicker than she had anticipated – he’s sitting hunched over a round table next to a wall, browsing lazily on a datapad. His attire is informal; a short-sleeved grey shirt, partially shredded jeans and a black leather jacket plopped onto the other seat of the small sofa. In his other hand is a tall glass of a potent dark drink. If the file carried accurate data, then it’s probably a type of ale. His demeanor can best be defined as somewhere in the midst of surly and melancholic.

Shoving her datapad back into its pocket, her approach is mellow and cool; all in accordance with what she recalls the SIS telling her. Wear the appearance of normality, like this is an everyday move. One could feasibly question why the SIS themselves weren’t sent instead, but it’s pretty straightforward – she was offered team command and as she would have ease of access, she insisted on handling the extraction.

She bundles the robes around her body so that nothing gets stuck in crevices or slits, and then takes a chair straight in front of the former Colonel, electing to voice her mind in a subdued manner.  
“Virek Sellar?”, she asks, her focus drifting to the peripheries of her sight. Not a soul appears intrigued by her; good enough. Adequate evidence of that she’s blended in.

The zabrak’s slightly blurred gaze – probably attributed to the liquor – surveys her tersely, but his interest is quite lacking in her.  
“If you’re selling, you got the wrong man. I’m not buying anything tonight. Got enough right here.” He indicates his glass and then looks down at his gadget.

This induces a perplexed blink from Elu. Hold up, does he assume she’s…selling him stims? Does she actually carry the looks of a spice dealer?  
“Colonel, I’m here to get you out.”

A comment like this was bound to bring some lucidity into him and his eyes sharpen to stare at her, his full attention attracted.  
“Colonel? Nobody’s called me that in half a decade.”

Elu briefly bows her head in recognition.  
“I’m familiar with that, but this is on the brink of turning on its heel. My name is Elu’ravi and we have need of your talents, Colonel.”

The aged man snorts unenthusiastically.  
“That so? And who’s ‘we’, may I ask?”

“Old associates, ones that you’re exceedingly acquainted with. Your paychecks came from them.”

With a more professional, acute sensibility, he scans her frame and then shakes his head.  
“You’re no associate of mine, kid. Must’ve been in diapers when I was in my prime.”

Sometimes, conversing with older people can be quite tedious for Elu. Why do they have to create such a fuss about the youth of someone? Doesn’t have to equate inexperience, does it? Then again, perhaps it’s in light of the opposite treatment…  
Regardless, she vexingly rolls her eyes and addresses him head-on with a scowl.  
“I’m not a child and this offer is as serious as it goes. Lest you hadn’t noticed, there are people after you tonight, Colonel. I’m here to escort you into safety and the hands of…well, your employers. Kindly come with me.”

“Or you’d use force?”

“…no, that would be unsound. But I’ve got more means of persuasion than one.”

He puts on the lockscreen of his datapad.  
“Why should I bother? They discharged me years ago and didn’t even show an iota of interest when the truth spewed out. They put me on a desk job, hidden in some stars-damned derelict pit. That’s no place for a man of my gifts to go out.”

“Well, they actually happen to agree at this level. And so, I was dispatched to retrieve you.”

“What, and now they’re begging on their knees for me to get back into the fold? That’s banthashit. And they couldn’t even come in person, could they? Sent their errand girl for me.”

Elu huffs, sounding vaguely offended.  
“I’m certainly no messenger, Colonel.”

To substantiate this remark, she leaves one of her hands on the table and the Colonel is shocked as the pad leaves his hand and telekinetically flies into hers.  
They stare into each other’s eyes, his own enlarged, while hers is steady and intentional.  
“…shit.”

“Mhm.”

“They pulled out the big guns, just to locate me? Honored, I guess, but…why?”

Elu grants his device back again.  
“Well, as measly as you may find this enterprise, the galaxy is in a state of flux – we’ve compiled and drawn a multitude of reports which show that our enemies are recuperating and warming up for violence. This time, the prognosis states that the conflict may exceed the previous in devastation. As a result, your employers have to slot every asset they can acquire, to survive.  
There’s no criterion that you accept it here and now tonight. All I’d ask of you is that you go with me, so that I can secure your position. We don’t have the particulars of where our foes are ensconced. Could be any of these people, but like I said – our enemies will have dispatched someone.”

The Colonel takes on a half-sober surface and places his arms on the table as he slants nearer to her.  
“If you’re here, then I reckon we sure as hell ain’t alone. The SIS are probably skulking in the perimeter somewhere, aren’t they? The brass wouldn’t leave ‘em out of an op of this nature.”

Her lips visibly tips upward.  
“Glad you haven’t forgotten how we engage.”

“Two thirds of a lifetime of this shit will do that to ya.  
Fine, I’ll adhere to your request, but we’re doing it on my terms. No snappy moves here, or there’ll be questions. I’m one to lounge longer than is necessary. Gotta make this look real, against my best wishes.”

“Hmm. Alright, I’ll play along.”

He sips from his dark ale and soaks in the atmosphere.  
“Small talk, then. How did someone from your Order get mixed up in this garbage? Thought the Jedi were done for after the massacres at Coruscant in the war. Are they that desperate or do you guys now have personnel to spare?”

“Uh, it’s more like…some from column A, some from column B. We aren’t fully back on our feet, but the Force finds a way.”

Virek stares at her in a nonplussed capacity.  
“…alright? Some of your Order’s spiritual mumbo-jumbo?”

“It’s not nonsense. The Force lives in everything and it curates balance.”

“Didn’t feel very balanced back in the war.”

Elu reluctantly gazes down at the table, running her fingers together.  
“I suppose it can’t…commit to fairness in every respect.”

He consumes another percentage of his drink, whereon her devises a different setup.  
“And what about you? Did you get roped into fiasco by the big shots in Coruscant? Or are you just another ‘casualty’?”

The Jedi crosses her arms over her chest.  
“No, I’m assigned to master Seros.”

“Oh, that fella.”

“You know my master?”

Virek calmly swirls the contents of his glass.  
“Eh, ‘know’ is a strong term. I’ve come across him, though, yeah. Again, during the war. We conducted a couple of campaigns on the same side of the field. Pretty stern guy. No-nonsense, instant judgment, harsh justice kinda person.”

Elu inhales and shrugs concurringly.  
“Yes, that…is master Seros, if you strip him down to the core.”

“I can respect his dedication, and he never showed any keenness to sacrifice his men. Gets the job done. But I can’t imagine what that means for a Jedi, to claim the praise of one like me.”

Elu scratches her cheek, while watching the table with faraway eyes.  
“I hold him in regard, but he can patently be…uncompromising at the best of times.”

“Don’t jibe with his methods?”

“Not the whole bunch. He has a firm belief in justice and support for the weak, but he also…well, he can be harsh with discipline of criminals, like you said.  
But I admire him too, so I’m not going to badmouth him…besides whenever he treats me like I’m a padawan still.”

That makes the Colonel chuckle faintly.  
“So, you’re a ‘Knight’ or whatever?”

“Yes, been for months.”

“Never had kids, but I can imagine what it’s like.”

“…he’s not my father.”

“No, but he’s your mentor, right? A teacher can substitute for a parent from time to time.” He then empties his glass and puts it down sturdily, nodding to his right.  
“Let’s bail this joint.”

They both rise and the Colonel tugs at his jacket and slips it on composedly. They turn and make for the exit, as regularly and orderly as can be. The two get this tone in the air of that they’re being peeked on by someone, but they mask their true feelings on the matter.  
But it would seem this just isn’t Elu’s day for luck – as they come up on the sea of people to sink into, tumult erupts somewhere in the heart of the flock. A punch is thrown by someone, a handful of shouts and expletives are distributed, a glass crashes into a face and within seconds, a small disagreement transforms into a brawl.  
Elu is caught unawares, but Virek stares at it with a cautious self-control and then drags Elu backwards by her shoulder.  
“Ah, crap. Some of ‘em gang morons must’ve pissed off one another.”

“But…they’re _all_ fighting.”

“Yeah, that adds up. This is what goes down in dumps of this sort, where the tension is so thick you can lick it off the freaking walls.” She spots how he points to their left instead.  
“There’s a backdoor we can duck out through, if we can smooth talk the guard.”

Elu draws her vision to that angle.  
“Oh, that’s no worry. I have a trick to use as a workaround.”

With the guests either leaping into the madness or watching with riveted exhilaration, the duo zigzags past them, enters a slim corridor and registers the doorway Virek posited. As they approach this wayside, a person awaits them right up front – an armed light blue-skinned duros, who does not seem to brighten at their emergence in this limb of the club. He doesn’t stick his fingers on his weapon, but his stance does get tenser.  
“Yo, spin on your heels and move the other way”, he instructs them. “This exit isn’t for guests.”

Why they’d have a guard on this area of the cantina confounds them, but Elu, who’s at the fore, mumbles to Virek.  
“Let me handle this.” She then concludes to copy her earlier action at the front of the cantina, and she motions with her left hand.  
“There’s a real broil in there, so we’d simply prefer to withdraw out of harm.”

But here, the Force isn’t playing ball. The duros frowns and now parks his hand on the grip of his blaster pistol.  
“Didn’t you hear me, lady? Scram.”

Elu flinches at this setback. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Ordinarily, they just budge. The Jedi’s brow furrows with concentration and she waves her hand in a swifter, albeit a mildly rash manner.  
“You want to give us permission to depart this route.”

His fingers now plunge to fully envelop the handle.  
“What the hell is wrong with you? Back the fuck off. Last warning”, he says, the volume of his voice rising to something bordering a shout.

Virek glances at her with severe skepticism.  
“Uh…”

She’s doing this too sloppily, but her patience is running thin.  
“Dammit. Sorry about this, but we’re in a hurry.”

Then, unceremoniously, she shuts her fingers and snatches him with the Force, prior to thrusting his whole structure squarely into the other wall, knocking him unconscious.  
Meanwhile, Virek appears a tad rocked by this.  
“Whoa. They aren’t kidding around anymore, are they?”

Elu watches him with grim regard.  
“Like I explained, we are facing a coming havoc. Sometimes, speeding things along is more effective.”

“No argument from me.”

With his qualms appeased in a hurry, they tap two buttons to pressure the hatchway wide and soar out in a modestly brisk pace, to the darkened side streets in the open air. This shortcut right here directs them into an alleyway.  
“From beyond this one, we’re likely to regroup with the remainders of my team. Keep your eyes alert.”

But right off the bat, they shuffle into an unrelated and perplexing predicament – one of the passages that Virek was sure could guide them true has been solidly sealed with garbage and debris.  
“What the…when did they release all this? Never pinpointed anyone lobbing this junk here. Wasn’t like this yesterday.”

Elu gauges that she has the ability to clear the entire pile out, but that would take minutes. Minutes they can’t afford.  
“Dammit. Alright, we’re running short of time and we can’t delve into this. Let’s reverse and locate an alternative.”

They perform a 180 and jog through the chilly night of the alley, with echoes of gunshots ringing a few blocks away, a street musician playing by the wall of the next building over and the roaring of an airspeeder taking a shortcut above.  
Another snag presents itself down the road, as a third voice pours from the shadows.  
“Sorry ‘bout all that racket. Had to work out the fastest channel to herd you into the right grid. Couldn’t have a target sneak off like that.”

Their intangible assailant soon unveils herself, confidently sauntering to the base of the road they’re progressing on. And as she does, Elu is caught off-guard by what she’s exposed to.  
“Wait…you? But…”, she trails off.

It’s the crimson-haired woman she bumped into earlier, although her aesthetic is utterly revised – she’s clothed in armor, a durable structure. The underpinning layers are clearly of some reinforced material, kevlar maybe, while her forearms, fronts of her legs, torso and shoulders are draped in metal painted red with white stripes. How’d she suit up so rapidly?  
The most stark element is of course the weapons – dual blaster revolvers on her belt, thermal detonators, vibro blades, the whole kit and caboodle. She’s not playing easy.

The human smirks, one hand smugly planted on her hip.  
“Caught ya with your pants down? Guessing you aren’t from ‘round these parts.”

Virek tightens his fingers into a fist.  
“…damn our luck. A bounty hunter.”

“Are you certain?”, wonders Elu.

The other woman chuckles boldly.  
“Reckon he’s mighty positive, yeah, cuz he’s right on the creds. The name’s Jovana and if you don’t mind, the ol’ Colonel will be joining me tonight. Y’know, in a long, nice carbonite shower.”

“Tsk. Don’t look much older than my escort here either. Got a clue who’s coughing up the money for this hunt, kid?”, shoots Virek.

“None of my business. Someone’s willing to part with a tidy profit and I won’t disappoint.”

While Virek intends to reach for his blaster, Elu sidles in front of him.  
“Allow me, Colonel.” She then focuses and primes her hand with a few stretches of her fingers. “It’ll work this time.”  
For the third occasion this night, she flits her digits in front of her, but in this interval with a more blatant method, urging the Force to heed her call.  
“This is none of your concern, hunter. You do not wish to capture this man. You want to go home and rest.”

The alley, at this point, grows equal parts awkwardly silent and anxious. They stare intimately into each other’s gazes, vivid blue at quite thoroughly unimpressed yellow.  
Jov then gradually raises her eyebrow. She holds up one gauntleted hand and imitates the twi’lek’s attempt, but more flippantly.  
“…the hell was that waving for? Is that the plan to get me to shit my pants, or…? Gotta be honest, not a huge success, in that case. I’ve had grammas with more punch.”

Elu is genuinely quite floored by that. No word of a lie, she impelled all her mental gifts for this endeavor. This woman’s willpower must be…enormous.  
The Jedi sighs heavily and swallows her hurt pride.  
“…dammit. This is turning out to be a tougher challenge than I hoped.”


	2. Second come, avalanche

Murder, gunfire, feuding, very literal stabs in the back – on the streets of Nar Shaddaa, these are common occurrence, events so normalized that for many it’s nothing to write home about. The Hutt Cartel is not short-handed on security personnel on all sorts of whereabouts in their dimensions, but this is not what the galaxy as a general rule would measure as ‘law enforcement’.

No, the identification ‘security force’ is emphatically more poignant in this procedure, for the hutts employ fighters for bespoke safety of their own lairs and stashes. This can include proper professional troops - tending to be former military – but also standard gangs, criminals, bruisers, parties who enjoy a good scrap or indeed, bounty hunters. Anyone excluded from the tight symbiosis with the hutts is left to fend for themselves. What’s the concrete _profit_ in keeping the peace and warranting global stability? Often, it’s technically of further benefit for the Cartel to accommodate a dash of destabilization, to make everyone stay on their toes and to now and again indirectly delete a rival; nevermind the threat of you yourself being laid to rest in this mayhem.

This is why natures exactly like the one embodied in this…Jovana, has clearance, go unhindered. Or, in fact, get the rubber stamp to go haywire and earn all the credits she can amass.  
But somehow, in the back of Elu’ravi’s senses, she’s got an inkling that this woman was not paid by the hutts. Why would the Cartel be targeting an ex-Republic black ops and spec ops commando? No, this has to be…

“How did you find us?”, Elu asks front and center.

“Eh, you got this ass-backwards, cutie – my partner and I scouted the Colonel out ahead of you and your sidekicks.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“Well, our employers hooked us up with info that Republic agents were on the same game as us and would be snooping around. Their demand was that I secure ‘im ahead of you Reps. But we weren’t a 100% of his identity, so we figured we’d get it verified via yourself. Sprinkled some whispers where he’s expected to pass the time.”

Elu blinks in a mildly stunned fashion.  
“…pardon? No, that’s-…we traced him on our own.”

“You were on the trail; we just kicked a couple o’ breadcrumbs your way.”

Virek sighs from his nose.  
“Talk about a crap day. We’ve staggered into a hunter who knows her shit – the worst kind.”

“That’s preposterous”, accuses Elu. “For what purpose would you lead your foes straight into an opening such as this? That’s excessively risky.”

Jov flashes a crooked grin at her.  
“What’s a hunt without some resistance?”

“…and a thrill-seeker”, mutters Virek. “Fuck me…”

“You settled his ID for us, which you get thanks for. Couldn’t rightly throw down the gauntlet in there, though. Kinda overkill with the ranks and as you probably saw, they get feisty. Luring you out here, though, where we’d put together our trap, was a smart process. This is where the fun can pop off or get brutal.”  
Jov takes her time fetching her blaster revolvers and though she clasps them in her fingers, they aren’t pointed at the duo. Yet.  
“Step outta the road or move into the barrel of the gun – your choice. Wouldn’t dig blasting a sweet face like yours, but I won’t waver. My tip? Beat it. Better for you, better for my conscience, even if it’s kinda faulty.”

The prospect of that Elu and her detachment of highly disciplined spec ops troops and savvy SIS agents would be outmaneuvered and outsmarted by a couple of paltry bounty hunters is ludicrous…and embarrassing. There’s just no way…right? What Jov’s spouting is packed with a can-do mood and a conviction that Elu can hardly contradict, but…no. This is not what took place. It’s too tall of a tale.

The twi’lek looks at her with an unrelenting gaze.  
“Sorry, I will not be retreating. If anything, it’s you who ought to scuttle away from this place. This affair does not incorporate you and you’re committing a serious blunder by pushing your luck in this sense. It won’t avail you much and your survival can only be assured if you stay out.”

Jov wheels her guns with her index fingers in an undeterred capacity, not conveying an atmosphere that she’s receptive to any form of surrender.  
“Look, lady, I’m only here to cash in. You fancy getting your hands on the Colonel? Fine, take ‘im when I’ve scooped up my creds.”

You can’t win them all and there’s no persuading Elu. Even more, she has underappreciated Elu’s specialty and the jeopardy she poses. Time for the twi’lek to present this bust.  
Slipping her hand into her robes, on the right end – counter to where the datapad was – she fishes out a condensed staff or pole, scarcely even what Jov would qualify as a baton. But it’s what Elu enacts with it next which alarms Jov to a slight degree – nailing a button on it, the device thunders and two solid and glowing green light shafts eject from each tip.

Even if she does not portray terror or an ingrained cowardice, Jov is inarguably blinded and disputably grabbed by this sight.  
“Oh me, oh my. Isn’t that a…?”

“In the name of the Jedi Order, stand down, bounty hunter. I’d ideally avoid conflict altogether, but I won’t abstain from violence if you persist in this quest. Please, do as I say.”

She should be so lucky. Jov does not forfeit her guns, but makes room for a profoundly more disturbing and portentous sensation – glee. She squeezes her revolvers and rotates her shoulders in a charged manner.  
“Hah. And here I thought this would be your run-of-the-mill bounty, smacking some old man in the back of the head and carrying him to the pay station.”

“…screw you”, says Virek.

“But this? _This_ is more my taste.”  
Jov commences skipping on her toes in a spry, combat-minded arrangement.  
“Never danced with a Jedi before, actually. Always a first, I suppose, and this is jazzing me up.”

Not the response Elu had been in the market for, to be sure. There still has to be a blood-free way out.  
“This is your last warning, hunter – I am not on my own here. I’m coordinating with a contingent of allies, including SIS agents and Republic special operations veterans. They’re awaiting me a stone’s throw away. Make the wise choice and go.”

The human stares at Elu, but every caution merely proves to double down on exciting her. Is going guns blazing genuinely that acceptable to her? Is she looking for a date with death or what?  
“So, you wanna play hardball, is that it?”

“I would prefer _not_ to play whatsoever. This isn’t a game, hunter. Please, gather your thoughts and don’t rush into this.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.” Jov’s smirk re-emerges. “But I do get a kick outta the odds being stacked against me – funnier when the whole shit just topples. Mako!”

Some description of a comm device activates and they receive an earful of crackling from a woman through it.  
“Got it, boss.”  
Whatever that denotes cannot serve the Jedi in this occasion.

And Elu’s instincts are trustworthy, for the whole alleyway hurriedly blackens as the lights not purely in the adjacent streets and roads are short circuited, but the block in its totality. The field isn’t rendered categorically pitch black, given the perpetual brightness of Nar Shaddaa’s city wasteland and the tarnished sky, but that’s not much of a comfort.  
Jov retains an edge nonetheless thanks to the pervasive shadows that swathe the route in a hardy darkness. It produces a hard time for common optics to see cleanly. And what’s harder, they can’t accurately estimate the incoming blaster shots that Jov sprays along their position, comparable to a deluge of malignant crimson beams.

Luckily for the ex-trooper, a Jedi requires no illumination to jostle with death in blaster form. She shifts her lightsaber into a spinning pinwheel by the twist of her fingers and swings it horizontally to parry every shot.  
“Colonel, move into cover, now!”

Virek’s retreat is in full swing prior to her call, but he’s yet unsatisfied.  
“You shouldn’t be fighting for me!”

“Colonel, please! Don’t get in my way!”

Though he takes umbrage with it, the zabrak groans and hustles to the sidelines, his vector drawing him towards a couple of crates and trash canisters milling about.  
Part-way there, he nearly carries out a clumsy miscalculation by tripping on a black cable stretched out on the ground beneath him, which he hadn’t noticed. He leaves it unheeded and barricades himself behind the trash he fixed on.  
“Damn kids…”

From the obfuscated region, though now slightly transferred to the left, Jov directs her comments at the Jedi.  
“That lightstick sure is nifty, ain’t it? Wonder how much it could outlast.”

Elu twirls her extended weapon in her hands, refusing to drop it, in the event of a secondary barrage pouring at her.  
“It’s not a ‘stick’ – it’s called a lightsaber. And it doesn’t run on batteries.”

“Hah. Touchy, huh? Reckon it could counteract this, though?”

Elu is leery of what the hunter intended by such a sentence, but this lasts for all of three seconds, until she hears a thump on the ground, like metal striking it. Despite the general darkness of their locality, she still makes out an orb-like item bobbling towards her – a pulse detonator. Dammit. She could harness the Force to catapult it back, but she doesn’t have decent enough visuals…  
With moderate chagrin, Elu leaps out of its way. She’d been positive she could unpack this altercation with a flash of the lightsaber, but she shouldn’t be so naïve. Not on this moon.

While Elu shields her eyes from the sparks and distorting glare, Jov circumvents the explosion. Elu remains highly visible regardless, ascribed to her shiny weapon, and so Jov attempts to flank her.  
Unfortunately for her, Elu is not a woman of sluggish reflexes and as the sideways blaster shots cascades at her, her green weapon wards them off, sending them into the ground or to the heavens.

Jov continues moving straight ahead, engulfing Elu in blaster fire as she does, which the Jedi flawlessly redirects, but she doesn’t discern what Jov’s tactic might be with this. The shots pause for just a second before they reassert themselves. Why would she cease this torrent except for to swap in some form of upside to her assault? Must be.  
Elu then withdraws and her intuition proves fruitful, for a second pulse grenade ruptures right where she was seconds ago. Elu did not get wind of that one, so it’s plausible the hunter just rolled it in. Quite shrewd…

Elu deactivates her lightsaber for a moment, dodges the shots and reaches out with the Force to wrench a trash can from the wall and over at Jov, but with the dimness of the area, it goes wide. At least she assumes so, as there was no impact into a hapless hunter.  
“Nice throw. A couple of meters off, but you can get there, I bet.”

The twi’lek steers her sight where she believes that she heard the voice.  
“Turn the lights back on and I’ll have a fairer crack of the whip.”

“Hah! Good one.”

When her vision is not at its fullest, however, Elu can still count on her other impulses. The Force is not locked to enhancing one body element at a time, after all.  
That’s when she perceives Jov’s rapid boot drops to her left and she conveniently ducks from the tackling maneuver that the human was charging at her. In turn, Elu whirls below and kicks outward to pressure the hunter to lose her footing, but Jov is at best mildly knocked back by it.  
In this particular section, however, Elu arrives at a decent range to survey the hunter and notes the wide collection of weapons in Jov’s possession, but what’s more intriguing is a box fastened to her upper back. What does that entail? More weapons? Explosives?

Intuiting an opening, Jov pursues a cheeky trick and fires wildly behind her, but the Jedi had enough concentration to thwart her controlled salvos, so these ones are a real breeze, slamming them aside as she does.  
“You imagine a victory for yourself, hunter? I have fought criminals, real soldiers, even a Sith once, on a secret mission. Surrender now, and we can prevent this from becoming bloody.”

Jov retraces her steps and takes potshots on the Jedi, in order to keep her busy. Likely wouldn’t enjoy letting her apply those Force stunts once more, which she groks is bad.  
“Oh, been tangling with the imps, huh? And here I’d run away with the notion you guys had a treaty. Naughty Jedi. But hey, if nothing else, you and I got something in common then.”

This uncouth miscreant battled a Sith? No, surely she’s just overdoing it now. Though she’s talented to say the least, there’s a massive difference between competence and beating the impossible.  
If she’s so intent on taking leave of her senses and pretending that her dream world is the actual one, though, perhaps Elu could stand to serve up the effects of hubris.

Putting her mind to it, Elu holds for Jov to set about blazing her with bolts again and she assesses the vector, beat and propulsion of each singular shot. With her math capped off, Elu gets her plan down pat and not only blocks, but reflects a duo of them towards where the hunter is stationed. Jov’s eyes are opened wide in this event and to Elu’s great disapproval, she dodges them beautifully. Additionally, Jov is not discouraged by it, but there’s instead emotions of ecstasy emanating from her, a menacing glee at the display of flair, which Elu can pick up on. That somehow tickled her fancy, apparently.

“Well well, hot damn. That was some lovely stuff. Didn’t realize those glowsticks of yours could work like that. Sith I rumbled with weren’t even half decent for it.”

“Unsurprising. The Sith don’t possess equal mastery of the Force’s precision.”

Jov laughs appreciatingly.  
“Whatever makes you happy. Deep down, though, I smell a rivalry.”

Okay, that’s plenty of defensive procedures. It’s beyond time that Elu herself accentuates for this crook why Jedi are not her average target and that she’ll go home emptyhanded today – if at all.  
Jedi are not counseled to ever be the aggressors, but Elu won’t sit and take this treatment lying down. Embedding the Force into her feet, she abruptly storms into Jov. She takes a first crack at this offense with a long even-heighted slash, which Jov slides out of by the skin of her teeth. The two consecutive incisions are diagonal, led at Jov’s chest, but the hunter goes on the back foot. Filling up Elu’s astonishment, Jov desists with her own backtracking by producing a vibrodagger from the tail of her belt and succeeds with parrying the lightsaber. Elu was mindful that this technology claimed this type of potency, but she had not expected Jov to carry the expertise for it, not to triumphantly head off a single blow.

If Jov had presumed it was done and done here, though, she has another thing coming. Elu retracts her weapon, swirls it in her hands and curves around to charge an even more ponderous swipe. She endeavors to throw the human for a loop, swarming her with pummeling strikes and cleaves her posture with heightened speed, gravitating at sheer unremitting might, over careful punctures.  
Although Jov is frequently on the border of ending in a nightmare, she somehow hangs in there, no matter how thin it is. Her melee merits are not as excellent, but she’s inarguably no pushover.

Not that the hunter is alone with designs outside plain thrashing – Elu taps into the Force’s pool and levels it into the chest of the hunter, who gets tossed to the wall. In light of the width of the road here, Jov does not collide very forcefully with the surface of it, although it’s obvious that her back does graze it nonetheless, with a clear thud.  
Jov is unassailably physically stronger than the twi’lek, but being a Jedi, she applies features greater than just raw muscle, which is why she can trap the human in one locale.

Or this is the concept she relies on for her strategy, harrying Jov while the hunter vehemently bends over backwards to keep a line amidst the two of them, refuting every conjecture that she’s down for the count. In a remarkable show of battlefield efficiency, Jov deflects one strike so that the lightsaber zips over her in an arch, but where she knows it’ll rebound for a flawless battering on the opposite end. When Elu seizes this open-goal chance, though, Jov purportedly had it all in her cards and she undertakes an extraordinarily exact drop, with the lightsaber practically kissing her armor and hair, though nothing is even singed.

This level of detection and attentiveness is an aptitude Elu has not viewed below those who exercise the Force’s range. To finish her piece, Jov boots Elu’s side and kicks her away, though the twi’lek stays upright.  
“Your reflexes are…beyond any troops or grunts I’ve ever struggled with. They’re not realistic for a standard fighter.”

Jov stretches her arms.  
“Thanks, hot stuff. Never had a Jedi chatting me up.”

“…excuse me? No, I wasn’t-…you’re not-…” The twi’lek groans in irritation. “You know what? Never mind. I’ve had it with your antics.”

“Oh yeah? Come shut me down then, cutie.”

Elu resumes her advance on the hunter, but portions of her begins to wonder if there’s more at play here. The faded brightness is there, sure, but is Nar Shaddaa’s environment grating her to the point where her attributes are now suffering? She’s never had this happen to her prior to this day.  
Lending a helping hand, at last, blaster shots hailing from Virek’s spot unloads onto Jov. The hunter isn’t fully anticipating this move and thus one shot hammers her plates.

With that preliminary pop, Jov sidesteps out of the line of fire.  
“Hey! Motherfucker!”

“Forgotten ‘bout me already, hunter?”, gloats the ex-Colonel.

“Here I took the imps for cheaters. Don’t judge a book by the cover, I guess.”

“Leave this be, Colonel!”, pleads the Jedi.

But Virek doesn’t heed her and stays on this course, even forays into various close-range covers, so that Jov can’t pick him off in a jiffy. He’s in the know of such tactics to the extent where he’s confident that Jov would ponder offing him if he’s overly chafing.

Eventually, Jov crosses this line.  
“Goddammit. Mako – Plan B!”

The same woman they heard previously speaks up once more.  
“This soon? Oh man. You aren’t failing me now, are you, girl?”

“No sass, just B!”

It’s in this moment that Elu learns the hard way what Jov’s backpack truly is – she triggers a switch by her wrist and skyrockets into the air with the assistance of a jetpack.  
Elu stands there in wonder, at a loss for responses. What the hell is that all about? Why in the galaxy would she-…  
But she’s soon made all the wiser as she gains clairvoyance of that something is amiss. This can only symbolize one thing. With the Force smoothing the way for her, Elu vaults to the skies and centers her abilities on one of the walls of the buildings.

A sincerely punctual call, for the cable that Virek preemptively distinguished but failed to correctly isolate, was in fact a cleverly tooled up trap. Not so harmless in the end, as it overloads with a roaring electrical shock. With its amplitude, it puts the Colonel out of commission, but the Jedi narrowly escapes.  
Sloped from one of the water regulation pipes off the side of the facility, she grips it firmly and heaves herself up to the roof of the house with the Force’s aid, roughly five meters overhead.

Parking with her up there is Jovana, who sets down subsequent to a short flight around the airspace of the passage, to not lose her bearings altogether in this clash.  
“Check you out! Now that was some pretty fancy parkour. Wish I had that in my pocket. Feel like giving me a few pointers on how to get that cooking for myself?”

When Elu reaches the pinnacle, she hauls herself across the boundary wall that hems the roof in, puts her feet down onto safety and peers down at groundside, where the final straggling shocks are secreted. She hopes the Colonel hangs on…  
“No, that is not an option. Without comprehension for the Force’s scope, you never could.”

“Aww, bummer. Can’t have it all, I guess. Would be handy against some of the creeps I scuffle with.”

Elu snorts faintly and searches her lightsaber, to be certain it did not take any harmful dents.  
“Funny, I seem to be in that exact predicament as we speak and yet it’s in vain.”

Jov smirks and twists her guns around in her hands.  
“Never had a one-on-one gun date that’s dragged out this much. Look at me.” She taps her gauntlet on her forehead. “Believe I’m working up a sweat. Doesn’t shake out every day, I’ll have you know.”

“…are all bounty hunters this bothersome?”

The human brushes her hand over her nose.  
“Nah, just one of my charms.”

She then launches into a fresh onslaught on the Jedi with her revolvers venting all of their flames. Albeit in this occasion, Jov guarantees that she’s surfing along crosswise, raising the bar for Elu to smash the rounds back at her. Elu reads into this gambit and acknowledges that it is crafty. Burning her the first time was an uphill battle, and this promises to be more of a tight spot than she had strived for.

Although, up on these heights, the match factors and the costs have rearranged. The proximity of their scrambling is necessarily keener and there are no ancillary recourses – just lightsaber versus blaster. Elu notes how this mounts a layer of unease on the hunter, who sporadically rolls aside, runs off prior to retrieving a good angle or has to utilize the roof’s tiny framing to hurtle aside and keep clear of Elu’s plasma teeth.

This lends credence to the case that Jov is losing ground. Elu has to seize upon that opening now, or else the hunter can persist in this fight until Elu is exhausted – or worse, simply fly down and spirit away with the Colonel when Elu lags.  
The Jedi drives into that vulnerability, maximizing her slicing rate and the servings of pounding that she deals to the other woman. Jov is pressured into swapping for her vibrodagger again, to have a prayer in this severity.

In due course, half a minute afterwards, the weight imposed on her makes good on its potential, as Jov steps on some uneven concrete and staggers into the roof framing. Elu views that as her ultimate opportunity to seal this off for good. She has no desire to kill Jov, but she will injure the human – it’s the only solution to this dilemma that won’t lead to the death of either, or a capitulation of the mission objective.

Or that would be the truth, had this not been undiluted, ingenious duplicity. As Elu rushes into an overhead cleave, to hopefully batter the holsters of Jov’s armor, there’s practically a glint in the human’s yellow eyes. She harnesses her singular reflexes for a repeat surprise, but here it is for the purposes of igniting her jetpack.  
The hunter soars a meter to the left, adequate to foil Elu’s attack. The human then flips her arm up and aims it at Elu, but there’s no observable weapon equipped…not at first, anyhow. And in defiance of this obvious logic, Elu hears a click, originating from the wrist. She gasps as insight floods her mind and her folly sinks in. The Force thankfully rescues her from demise, when a cloud of fire discharges from the hunter’s armor-attached portable flamethrower.

Elu, in her humiliated startlement staggers off, not breaking until there’s three or four meters between them, what would be a risk-free distance. She hopes.  
“You…you’re damn relentless, hunter.”

Jov releases a worryingly joyful laughter, slapping her hand on the wrist to fold the weapon into its slot.  
“Ever lived life to the brim like this, Jedi? No time for it like when death is at your heels.”

“You…are out of your mind.”

“Yeah, my first boss said something to that effect.”

This showdown can’t be prolonged a lot further, or Elu is going to be inundated in torment. This bounty hunter is anything but a smooth challenge. She could honestly shape up to be the twi’lek’s grave.  
In a bid to perform some swindling of her own, Elu cedes her gained territory and defends herself from gunfire. In the meantime, she makes an all-out effort to line up a deathblow of sorts. When it’s in the clear, Force willing, Jov won’t have sufficient foresight to counteract it.

Elu then loads her telekinetic gifts and shoves the hunter off the roof. The sole picture the twi’lek receives of her is how Jov looks shocked as she’s sent flying off the side of the ceiling, into what could be quite a terrible and fatal thump, if she goes head-first.  
But one more time, Elu takes Jov’s gifts immoderately lightly, for the hunter spins herself to the heavens with her jetpack. Elu was kinda hoping she wouldn’t have range to activate it, but…  
“Oh, that was gnarly! I like that. Sorry, though, cutie, ya ain’t crossing me out that easily.”

Since she’s midair anyhow, Jov appropriates this leverage to get some payback and sends the Jedi a good aerial strafe, a bombing run of blaster bolts, ones she can properly feel. Even if she wards off each one, Elu is getting worn out by the minute. She’s entered combat many times over, but the bulk of them are clear in a flash; they never gain the leeway to deplete her stamina, such as what is occurring here and now.

Detecting her foe’s lacking energy, Jov reprises an earlier plan and lobs a third grenade in Elu’s trail, but this one the Jedi can label as a thermal detonator, the brutal stuff.  
Up here on the ceiling, though, there are few shadows and even with reduced lighting, she scopes out its trajectory. To not flub this game, Elu concentrates and pushes it to the reverse end. Did she really assume it would be that cheap?

Sadly, this was one additional ruse from the hunter, which doesn’t come to Elu’s attention before it’s beyond recall – the grenade that bounded for her wasn’t actually primed.  
Jov, holstering one of her guns and swapping it for her dagger as this transpires, engages her jetpack on full burst and races in on the Jedi, in an endeavor to body-tackle her into the floor. She doesn’t quite come out on top in this regard, for Elu surprisingly rolls with the punch, evades one cut of Jov’s blade and diverts the next out of chipping at her face.

Having registered this, Elu also figures out that Jov partially occupied what she coveted – a near-contact margin where the twi’lek is barred from conducting long swings, or where doing this would run the risk of self-harm.  
Jov distributes two attacks with the dagger, one from the left and a backhand from the right, in advance of keeping their blades locked together. She then raises her gun.

Elu’s eyes sharpen, foretelling that Jov must be plotting to shoot her down low, cripple her movements. This is imaginably the most constructive to shatter the Jedi’s resolve. To obstruct this end from ever elapsing, Elu fixates on the pistol with her mind and leaves the hilt with one hand to deprive the hunter of her firearm. She gains purchase and the revolver fleets through the air, across the floor.

Once again, she’s outsmarted by the hunter, always one step ahead, as firing on her was never in Jov’s agenda. In place of it, she heels one of Elu’s legs with her boot, and as a response to the Jedi drawing one of her hands from the weapon, Jov commits her power through and through into shifting the lightsaber to the side, just enough to let Elu’s guard down. With the twi’lek exposed, Jov clenches her right fist and rams it with unfiltered might at Elu’s chest.

Elu has not been ensnared in an abundance of duels within her lifetime to date, and although she’s sustained an assortment of wounds – even impacted by a blaster once or twice – physical brawls is a first for her. She’s not dressed in a wealth of what one can conceivably refer to as ‘armor’, while Jov’s gear is evidently some brand of steel or worse; compact and augmented to a superb effect. Consequently, and combined with the hunter’s grander peaks of strength, the punch’s momentum saps her lungs of air, and her legs of vitality. She reels rigorously to the ground and bruises her back in the fall, as a result of the velocity. With her mind conceding the reins of her limbs, her lightsaber tumbles out of her grip. She’s practically disabled from further resistance and powerless to override it.

Once the primary wave of raw tension has subsided, Elu gasps and rubs her abdomen, where the fist struck her. It’s subconsciously done, but it helps to ground her in something tangible. Propping herself up on her knee, she is apprised of the state of affairs, where Jov has unholstered her second revolver anew and sets it onto Elu’s position.  
The Jedi, in an unwise sequence, puts in the effort to retrieve her weapon with the Force’s support, but as it rotates at her, Jov catches it in her peripheral vision. She angles the muzzle of her gun towards the levitating saber and blasts it. One bolt drills into the blade, knocks it off its course and affects Elu’s focus. Instead, it hurtles past the edge of the roof, down to the empty streets.

And so, finally, she aligns the gun back on Elu, setting it flatly at her face. This entire act, when reflected upon, is insurmountable, but…this hunter has bested her. A lone bounty hunter toppling a Jedi. How is this even within the bounds of possibility? How can a regular individual be this lethal? She has no noticeable command of the Force. Talk about eating humble pie…

The breathing from the pair is divided fairly, in that it is frazzled. They regard each other carefully, more profoundly than previously, as if they share a moment of calm in the storm.  
Jov’s vision carries the likeness of a predator, characterizing the express profession she chose to dedicate herself to. It’s at a standstill with the blue of the twi’lek, which meets her with defiance, but not with every bit of fire.

“You’re good. Damn good. Never had a scrap like that.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Finish your gruesome work.”

“…what?”

“You can’t break my spirit. ‘There is no death, only the Force’.”

Jov’s gaze drifts back and forth with tiny variations, and this doesn’t seem to sit comfortably with her.  
“I don’t wanna kill ya, Jedi.”

“Who says you must? You have the power to end this.”

“I got a job to complete.”

“You take lives for credits. What manner of living is that?”

“A helluva lucrative one.” The intensity of her vision lets up for a second, as it grows hazy. “But…I’m no assassin.”

“They’re killers, you’re a killer. They earn their pay from it, so do you. What’s the difference?”

Outwardly, Jov looks to be contemplating this question more thoroughly than Elu had predicted, and though the hunter maintains her stance and aim, her determination on the trigger has waned. Elu holds a clue to what might be her salvation, but she relinquishes it for the sake of granting Jov a second to appoint her solution. One such climax never arrives.

Over her comm device, Mako’s call spews again.  
“Oh…son of a hutt. Jov!”

The hunter is brought out of her reverie and sighs peevishly, and then activates it by nudging the button into her leg.  
“What?”

“Trouble is kicking up. Anuli just hailed me – it’s news on the Eidolon and it’s drab. You gotta get over here.”

“Mako, I’m working. This bounty ain’t in the bag yet.”

“Seriously? Well, then you’ve got a choice to make – you collect on the Colonel, you lose out vital intel on our real target and the Great Hunt. I’m not shitting you, this is on the level.”

Now, Jov finds herself faltering not founded on doubt or guilt, but agitation. She glances from the kneeling Jedi and then at something indeterminable over yonder.  
“For crying out loud…” She looks at Elu, but with bitterness rather than hostility. “This is why you don’t snap up side jobs when you’re on another contract.” She then lowers her blaster without what Elu can discern to be any care to return to the same condition. “You’re off the hook, Jedi. Take your fucking Colonel. If we meet up again, you owe me a drink.”

Elu is utterly dazed, not able to process what just became of this. She was seconds out from immersing herself in the Force, the stream of the afterlife and now…she remains alive, intact. Jov jogs to her fallen gun, fetches it and then powers up her jetpack to burst off into Nar Shaddaa’s night. Was that the Force saving her or merely a coincidence?


	3. A champion's limits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter plays out during Act 2 of the BH storyline_

Xeam-Ret is a planet in one of the tamer sectors of the galaxy, uncommonly a target for bounty hunters, gangsters, crime syndicates and other scoundrels. It’s by and large a corporate and local-state led realm, which is situated in the wider network of the Galactic Republic, but not immediately encompassed amid its borders. It does not boast a senator.  
However, it is not an affiliate of the Sith Empire and has presented no feelings to acquire such a desire either, for it prizes its independence and the beneficial station of earning credits in the intervening lands.

Discouragingly, if one is a prosperous entity in the galaxy, during these times where the hurricanes of war are on the horizon, one cannot expect that independence will be eternal, nor admissible. Rumors abound in a range of places that the Empire has brought its attention to a number of Mid Rim worlds, and Xeam-Ret is on a few betting boards to be targeted.  
It’s a thorny scene to fully unravel, however, for one would have to retain an assortment of deep and obscure contacts or sit in the role of a prestigious, notorious or respected personality, to gain all the facts.

An identity that has landed in one of the spaceports of a major city on this world can be incorporated within one of these lists, though she herself is not big on fame; not unless it also entails work and credits.  
Jovana Vlasic – to the wider underworld of the galaxy now having made her name as the ‘Grand Champion of the Great Hunt’ – has popped onto this planet, stepping past its streets with her partner, advisor and arguably mastermind of every job she takes, Mako. On most days, these two can be found cruising either in Hutt-controlled space or in imperial provinces, seeing as those two fall under the category of their preeminent customers. This is in part why they’ve relocated to this planet, but it stays a curious investment, since a place like this is not on the peak of any dockets of prominent bounties.

The hour in this portion of the planet is early evening, and the orange-shaded star can be viewed as gradually passing on the rims of the horizon, heading to its berth. But this is prime time for creatures like Jov and Mako, which is why they’re smack in the process of working, even if for them, it isn’t the nine-to-five slog, or an equivalent.  
The duo can be discovered exiting a pub somewhere in downtown, with Jov’s own sight being lightly muddied by the faint buzz she’s got going after a couple of drinks. Mako didn’t indulge in the same, as she is of the personal impression that drinks have the tendency to irritate her implants. Her counterpart is that she’s currently sucking on a rainbow-colored popsicle.

In the meantime, the young slicer’s gaze is pulled downwards, at the datapad in the other hand, clicking away at the screen and scouring the texts that flash before her. It could be viewed as hazardous or reckless to stroll the night without keeping focus about her, but that’s where their partnership comes into play. Mako is the shadow, the brains and the info-assimilator; Jov is the face, the brawns and the alert-minded. Her instincts are honed to an extreme degree. This is why these two work. This is why Mako trusts Jov with her life and why Jov trusts Mako to handle their entire business unconditionally.

It’s when they have to fetch new gigs that they primarily collaborate. Mako occupies most contacts and pre-job engagement, but Jov is attentive of what they can handle and often chooses impulsively where to drift. Though she trusts Mako to fix technical info and dossiers, Jov undertakes the physical scouting and therefore, in terms of accepting or rejecting career offers, Jov often has last say. It’s safest and has benefited them so far.

Whilst they amble around here, Mako is not against being critical.  
“I dunno, boss. This isn’t exactly a hotspot of the galaxy’s fattest bank accounts. Aren’t we better off committing ourselves to more lucrative sites and corners of the galaxy? We’re kinda esteemed now, right? Big-name hunters in the right circles, you especially. Empire, Republic, hutts, syndicates, major corps – they’re all on their knees to solicit our cooperation. We can nab any gig.”

The biggest-name hunter herself spins her hand in a one-armed shrug.  
“Yeah, heard plenty ‘bout that at this point. Hardly ever check my mailbox, but that thing is filling up with invitations and suggestions. Only more reason not to touch it.  
This one’s smelling pretty decent, though.”

Mako glances incredulously at her companion.  
“Really? You figure Imperial Intelligence is a solid bunch of people, do you?”

“They’re not bad. Some of ‘em anyway. I’ve coordinated with ‘em before.”

“Ahead of Braden recruiting you?”

“Uh-huh. It’s where I ran into Cierah the first time. I’ve got confidence in my girl and she counseled me to look up Intelligence on this planet. They’re apparently making bids on subverting the Reps here. They’ve need of a hunter or two and they pay out the ass.”

Mako stares off with much on her mind and continues to taste the icy pop in the span of it, hoping she can cool her thoughts and crystallize a worthy reply.  
“What you’re implying isn’t inherently wrong, but I just don’t…well, have the greatest opinion of them. The staff we’ve run into are so…spooky.”

“Uh, okay. So, you’d put down my girlfriend as ‘creepy’?”

The slicer pulls a leery face towards her buddy.  
“Did I say that? I didn’t.”

“You meant it.”

“I didn’t! Don’t put words in my mouth. But she is…uh, intense.”

“Pfff. Not a great save, Mako.”

The other human rolls her eyes and lifts her shoulder in a summary capacity.  
“Look, I’m not planning to assert my own wishes on you. I'm just putting it out there that Imperial Intelligence isn’t the foremost reliable of contractors. Captain Medle – ring a bell?”

Jov flips her hand left and right to rebuff the thought.  
“Eh, that was a special circumstance.”

“Given the fact that we were verging on being goners?”

“What? Since when? You and I recall that day very differently. He didn’t have nothing on me.”

“If he was just a teeny bit brighter, he would’ve had us.”

“Well, he wasn’t, so I dunno what your beef is.”

The district or neighborhood they’re traipsing through at this time is one of high constructional quality, with durable rows of metal edifices and formulated windows. The ascent of the buildings stretches hundreds of meters and the landscape is chock-full with these mega cities, even if this world is not quite as densely populated as Coruscant or Nar Shaddaa.  
To some, in other, further concentrated layers of the galaxy, it’s a wonder that this and multiple planets of its ilk has flourished so, as Xeam-Ret itself has no more than a few centuries history of a sprawling civilization. Prior to its urbanization, it was a mere remote farming colony. The airspace up top is abundant with airspeeders and shuttles, as the denizens fly to and from their disparate destinations. The atmosphere thrums with the whirr of people, technology and the scent of industry.

Mako and Jov duck from the storefront lines in the main market zone, slides past some cantinas and clubs, in favor of progressing towards a motel they’ve been staying at. With their recent streak of success and with the profile they’ve now mustered, it is completely in the cards that they’d be capable of getting a room inside the richer and fancier hotels. Stars know they’ve racked up the credits during the Great Hunt. And on the condition that this was a vacation period, they could’ve pictured such a luxury; might even have went to some form of pool together and just laid back.

But under business cycles – or when they’re gearing up for one – they can’t handle that kind of self-indulgence. Too distracting, not to mention unsafe. They become magnets of attention in areas like that. No one estimates that loaded hunters like them would hang out at joints with average or below quality, which is precisely why they do. Besides, the slum is more Jov’s comfort zone anyway. Mako has not gathered, even with over a year of being a tag team, but the other human just isn’t at ease in upper-class districts. Who knows why?

With them traversing a couple of alleyways, Jov’s eyes lazily reviews their vicinity and Mako is in the midst of her own inferences as well as halfway down the popsicle.  
“If we got to grab this project of theirs, can we at least bargain for some boundaries with them? I don’t fancy letting them into our HoloNet operations or digital venues.”

“Never said you did.”

“Yeah well, that’s how spy stuff works, right? They trespass covertly on everyone’s grounds, snooping in our drawers and read through our diaries.”

Jov’s eyebrow arches with an entertaining hint.  
“I got no diary.”

“You know what I mean. I just don’t want their greedy hands all over our shit.”

“Then tell ‘em that.”

“And they’ll hear me out? You don’t honestly believe that. Not their style.”

“I told you, I’ve played this earlier. Never hit a snag.”

Mako breathes out via her nose.  
“Probably since you didn’t have a mountain of goodies under your belt like we do now. Just saying we ought to be careful. You’re well-briefed on that.”

“Eh, maybe. Sounds like you're overdoing it a little."

“Jov, please. Could you treat this with some level of caution, so I can control my blood pressure?”

“I am.”

“You say that, but then when we get down to it, you’re always so-“

In the dead of Mako’s half rant, half reprimand, Jov’s senses promptly heightens, as there’s a sting in the back of her mind which calls to her that not everything is as it should. Ever since she was young and lodged in the streets of Nar Shaddaa, she’s built and refined her hunches and intuition, both implicitly and explicitly, which has rendered her with the inner technique to all but taste when an ill omen is afoot.

This is what her body is shouting at her this very second and to play off it, Jov snatches her partner’s shoulder and tugs her backwards, much to the slicer’s disarray.  
“…uh, what’s up?”, she wonders, with the popsicle resting in one cheek of her mouth.

The slicer scans her friend’s demeanor and ascertains how sober and full of suspense she’s growing.  
“Dunno. Could be trouble.”

This is the moment where Mako receives the echo and rustling of shoes on the ground, an accelerated rate of footfalls that is at present creeping up to them. Jov fixes her fingers at the hilt of her gun with discretion, but for all her foreshadowing of an inbound candidate for a blaster shower, this does not go on. The soul that intrudes on their voyage to their beds is one that the Champion recognizes, but suffice it to say, not a person she ever projected that she’d run across again.

Out from the shadows materializes a thicker and shorter woman, though potentially in Mako’s height. Her skin is a dark yellow and there is no hair present, but elongated headtails. Contrary to the skirmish on the Smuggler’s Moon, this woman is now in a collection of brown and white robes, more loose-fitting and reasonably with additional pockets.  
The twi’lek doesn’t notice them at the identical juncture, but it tarries no more than a couple of seconds before she lays her gaze – one that widens swiftly – at them.

Right off the bat, she’s rooted in place, her mind unquestionably overpowered by the unrealistic chance of this occurring. This can’t and shouldn’t be their existent situation.  
There’s a dim spark in temperatures as Elu’ravi and Jov’s perceptions collide. A great number of sensations and emotions partook of their earlier bout, passions that struck out and were fired off on their encounter in Nar Shaddaa. Impulses and nostalgic flashbacks of bloodlust, distaste, desire, death and the adrenaline shock of being alive – all of it floated in their cups at the clash of convictions.

It does not re-emerge here with full fire and brimstone, but an undeclared fancy of it brushes its scent past their nostrils, teasing and perturbing them alike. This keeps on for two seconds and then she retreats.  
“Wha-…that’s-…” She gains troubles to express her shock with articulate phrases. “You”, she eventually settles on.

“Yeah…right back atcha. What are you doing here?”

“That’s my question!”

Mako’s own sight travels from Jov and to the twi’lek, at least twice. Then she’s added it up.  
“Huh? Oh wait. Isn’t that the Jedi you tussled with months ago?”

“Yeah, the one with the pretty face, on Nar Shaddaa. We were after that chef, or whatever.”

Elu’ravi frowns lightly.  
“Colonel.”

“Yeah, that.”

Despite that she doesn’t proclaim it, Jov has kept the Jedi in the frame of her mind from their fight and onwards. There was just something…unforgettable in her.  
Elu herself switches her vision from one to the other, though she’s less thrilled to catch them here. Furthermore, she looks thrown off as to who the shorter one is.  
“Wait, your voice…you’re that one over the comms.”

“Yup. This is Mako, my hunter partner, slicer, data-cross checker…y’know, a lil’ slice of everything.”

Mako snorts amusedly.  
“Only cuz you’re too slacky to get on it.” But then Mako points her finger at Elu. “Don’t get cocky, though, since I know you as well. Ran a lil’ legwork of my own – you’re Elu’ravi Minnah, Jedi Knight.”

Elu glares sternly at the younger human, but she doesn’t confirm or deny. Jov folds her arms, her eyes fading fleetingly.  
“Elu’ravi? Mm. Pretty name.”

“…I didn’t ask for your flattery”, says the Jedi. “Once again, what is your interest here on Xeam-Ret?”

“Why do you care?”

“Why the hell do you figure? Last occasion, you just about killed me.”

“Nah. Wasn’t gonna.”

“Oh, _very_ reassuring, hunter. Have you booked a new contract to oppose me now?” She shuts her eyes and sighs in a sparingly fatigued fashion. “Can’t you just leave me alone? This is soon beginning to look quite personal.”

Jov snorts with a hint of delight at that claim.  
“You assume I’m that into ya? Sorry to disappoint, but no. I’m on the prowl for some good fun, but none has popped up; so far. And you? What brings you to a nobody planet like this?”

“Unfortunately, this is confidential information, which you’re not privy to.”

Mako huffs and crosses her arms.  
“Yeah, okay. I’d wager a good few credits it’s SIS-related, though.”

Elu narrows her gaze, and doesn’t respond in any forthright manner, but she sets her arms over her robes and nibbles at her own lip for a moment, rolling it around. In the end, she can’t cheat them.  
“Fine. Yes, I am…yet affiliated with the SIS. Their organization has uses for a Jedi and the Order is amenable to full cooperation.”

Jov levels her hands on her hips.  
“I wouldn’t have imagined it’d lead to that. Aren’t they upset that you got into plenty o’ trouble on Nar Shaddaa?”

“Well…yes and no. The turnout was…was not what they had anticipated, but from every technical standpoint, I did pull it off. I did bring the Colonel into safety.”

“Cuz I threw you a bone, that is.”

Elu’s brow folds faintly.  
“…I wouldn’t have worded it that way.”

“I had you on your knees. Like, literally.”

The twi’lek covers her face with a hand and exhales through her fingers.  
“Could we…not talk about that? I’m inclined to suppress that…unique indignity.”

Jov’s lips ascend marginally into a smile.  
“It was just the way of things. If you didn’t wanna get all rough and rumble, shouldn’t have tested yourself.”

Elu stares unhappily at the hunter yet again.  
“That’s a simplification and an injustice to the process of the battle, as well as the consequences of it. It also fails to mention that I did not wish for it to get violent.”

“You guys always say that, but you don’t move outta the way. You’re asking for it.”

“Wrong! This isn’t a zero-sum game, hunter. We can have the _ideal_ of avoiding fights, while also grimly accepting that we must protect the innocent and those we care for.”

Jov mulls it over for a few moments and then brushes her own notion off.  
“Meh. Figure that’s okay. It isn’t contradictory. Guess I just feel like-…  
Oh hey, wait. Don’t you owe me a drink?”

The Jedi blinks with quiet disorientation.  
“What?”

“That was the deal.”

“…no, it was not.”

“Yeah, I said you owe me a drink.”

Elu shuts her eyes and her lekku flutters behind her with faint annoyance.  
“…yes, _you_ did. I promised nothing.”

“Wow. So, you’re not gonna? Didn’t realize you Jedi were cheapskates.”

“We’re-…don’t make this-…ugh.”  
To carry them off elsewhere, apart from debt and payment, Elu gravitates to a new topic.  
“Your ally here is not alone with staying updated. I heard of you too, in some circles. Your name came up concerning a title. A Champion…”

Jov’s mood is set ablaze with animation, as she grins and raises her back, practically what one could call flexing.  
“Yup – the Grand Champion of the Great Hunt.”

“That’s it.”

“Mhm. Impressed much? Don’t normally hand out autographs or anything, but I could write something special for you.”

Mako squeezes her nasal bridge in shame.  
“…oh boy.”

Elu, however, is far from entertained, nor pleased. A coldness sweeps over her eyes.  
“No, I certainly am not. I don’t want anything from you. You killed a Jedi – Master Kellian Jarro.”

Jov either blocks out the optics or it blows past her, as she scratches her head.  
“Oh yeah. That was ‘round the last slice of the Great Hunt. Real clutch, gotta tell ya.”

The frown on the Jedi swells at this admission.  
“And you’re proud of yourself?”

“’course. One of the roughest brawls I’ve ever been held in. Couldn’t count on if I’d make it outta there.  
You take home some of the honors for that one, though – without the duel you and I crossed on, I dunno if I’d have had the vigor for it. Your form served to buckle me down for the finals.”

“W-what?”, asks Elu, quite horrified. “No, I-…that’s not-…  
Don’t include me in your crime! You murdered a Jedi!”

“Murder? C’mon, that’s dumb. He and I competed fair and square. I pulled no punches and didn’t screw ‘im over.”

“You killed him, miss Vlasic!”

Jov looks befuddled by her demoralized tone.  
“So?”

“You’re…a perpetrator of this act. A butcher of Jedi! Do you presume I’ll look past that?”

The intent and impression of the Jedi then hits Jov, as she gets a handle on what she’s working with. Jedi are not supposed to get sentimental, but they’re all people, right?  
“Jarro offed a bunch o’ mandalorians in the last war. You knew that?”

Elu is startled by the counter, to the point where she can’t fire back greatly or harshly.  
“I…yes, but-“

“I’m a mandalorian now. Mandalore himself signed me up and I accepted. Therefore, they’re my kin, my people…my family, in some cases.  
This Jarro guy slaughtered at least a hundred mandos in the war. It was in the war and he did what he had to, but did anyone convict him? Was he made guilty for it? He wasn’t. Never answered for anything and no mandalorian was asked if they sought retribution. The Republic didn’t give jack shit. It was simply how it was, and they had to suck it up and move on with what they had.”

The Jedi halts and fumbles with the notion and her own ideation of it. Odds are it’s all real, but does that justify his death now? Or the surrounding conditions of the attack?  
“He fought to defend the Republic”, Elu insists. “Maybe he should not have taken so many of them out, but…he had no alternative, from everything that we’ve heard of the raid on Coruscant.”

“Maybe he was and maybe he did, but his ruling and his actions earned him the wrath of the mandalorians – my people. They were gonna come calling at his door someday.”

Elu exhales frustratedly.  
“And you suspect that revenge will placate this…feud between us? It won’t. Vengeance begets nothing more than amplified vengeance.”

“To Jedi it possibly won’t, but in mandalorian society, blood for blood is the way. Jarro was a kickass enemy and worthy foes are owed but one thing – battle.”

Even though the Jedi, in her heart of hearts, is motivated to further this friction, she grasps the undeniable truth that it’ll merely go around and around in circles.  
“Okay, fine. I have no desire to argue with you, nor do I ask for a rematch of our previous engagement, as that would not deliver any solutions.  
I am in the midst of an urgent assignment and I would be grateful if you could avoid disrupting or confronting me. I appreciate that we’ve already clashed once, but this doesn’t have to be a repeat.”

Mako huffs mildly and nudges her popsicle in Elu’s direction.  
“We’re free to wander or practice our craft in whatever way we choose and there’s not a damn thing you can serve to rein us in, Jedi.”

“You are and you can, but I simply have no will to cross paths with you in a hostile manner. Please say that’s not your mission on this world. Please describe to me that you’re just here on…I don’t know, a holiday.”

Her imploration isn’t wholly modest and gracious, but it is an invitation to cease the risk that they butt heads on this world, and neither of the hunters can disavow that this might be useful.  
Mako and Jov dispense visuals to one another, hoping to ascertain what the other is up for.  
“Well…”, begins Mako. The slicer is potentially both keen and reluctant.

Jov draws her gaze from her friend and to the twi’lek, letting it slide up and down Elu. Her soft and kind appearance, that cute look and sweet glint in her eyes, the carefully bent alignment of her lips…  
Can she truly resist that?  
“It isn’t.”

Mako’s own sight expands with explicit reflections of disbelief. Did Jov really forego her opportunity for credits on the table here? And for what cause?  
“Uh…”

But the twi’lek is tempered, breathing out in a relaxed way.  
“Oh, thank the Force. I’m relieved to hear you say that. Then…I won’t attempt to hunt you either. Retribution is not the Jedi custom.”

“And compensation-wise? What’s it then?”

There’s a subtle swaying of Elu’s head, arisen from her bewilderment.  
“Huh?”

“I turned over the Colonel to you as a means of that settling that affair. There’s an existing tab with your name on it, though and you’ve owed a drink since then. Been a few months, dunno if there’s interest on that.”

Grokking what Jov is announcing and that there might be a subtext of a quip, Elu rubs a hand onto her forehead.  
“I see. Uh…perhaps another time would suffice?”

Jov tut-tuts, although this does also ooze with a playful flavor.  
“Jedi don’t like paying back, huh? Alright, I’ll forgive ya, for now. Don’t get complacent, though – I don’t neglect debts.”

Elu looks uncertain of whether Jov is in a joking mood or if she’s dead serious, due to the flat expression she’s offering, but the twi’lek internally hopes it isn’t that dire.  
“Is it permissible for us to part in peace, then? I’m sort of on the clock and must pull out of here. This was just a temporary sidetrack for me.”

Jov spreads her arms in a shrug.  
“That’s fine. Don’t run into any hunters on the way.”

The Jedi rolls her eyes, not too humored.  
“I suspect I won’t run into champions every time.”

“Can never be too wary, though, right?”

As the twi’lek drifts away, Mako shifts to her comrade and proffers probably the greatest visage of question and mystification she’s ever held.  
“So…are we gonna have a talk on what that was about now or save it until morning?”

The Champion peers into the alleyway where the twi’lek evaporates, her yellow eyes captured by it, unblinkingly. There’s something with that Jedi. This didn’t come off to Jov as…random.  
Eventually, she shrugs and strolls at a dissimilar bearing, with Mako jogging after her.  
“Meh. She’s not worth having a punch-up with.”

“…right. Since when did you come to that conclusion?”

Jov’s head is somewhere else entirely, but one can’t notice it very well, for she observes the environment, constituting that they’re alone in this road.  
“Earlier. Besides…she’s kinda cute.”

And there it is – the truth laid bare, naked and unmitigated. Malo exhales cumbersomely, but a moderate smile plays on her lips too.  
“Oh, Vlasic…you’re so predictable.”

“Am not.”

“This isn’t gonna end up like when you banged that Sith, is it?”

The Champion stares at her companion like she was thrown off her game.  
“What Sith?”

“You know…Thana or whatever?”

Jov searches her memory in silence for a couple of seconds.  
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“What? It was like a couple of months ago? On Taris? Tattoos on her face and a chip on her shoulder?”

“Hmm. Oh yeah, her. Hah, almost blanked that one out.  
She was a real softie, though. And a massive sub too.”

“Tsk. Don’t tell me this is your other type. Jedi and Sith girlfriends thick on the ground back home?”

“Not exactly. We’re from the same moon, Mako; you oughta know.”

The slicer’s lips are yet curved as she shakes her head.  
“Yeah, yeah. Fine, but we were going for a contract with Intelligence, right? This Jedi’s bound to have her own commitments to the SIS here. Best bet, it’s to immediately counteract the imps. So, y’know…we’ll be on the same track.”

“Nah, haven’t fetched it yet. Can just get on the Blood Fist now and head elsewhere.”

“For real? You’d lay down a rich job, for her?”

“What, weren’t you opposed to this at any rate?”

Mako ponders this perspective, together with swallowing the final pieces of her popsicle, abiding its cold to defuse her. She then lobs the stick that held it into an adjacent trash can.  
“Well…I mean, yeah, I suppose. I’m partial to getting off-world instead of hanging out with ghosts.”

“Then what’re we waiting for? Dust off that list and let’s have a looksee what other big pays we can snatch.”


	4. Dire dungeon

Sometimes, the Republic surprises even Elu’ravi. She’s inhabited this coalition of planets and cultures for her entire life, being born on a small colony world labelled ‘Lynthella VI’. She’s dedicated a large margin of her 25 years in this galaxy to the Jedi Order, but this does not imply she hasn’t experienced the Galactic Republic’s full promise.  
Though she cherishes the freedom it yields to its citizens, the right to express and travel and consume what one fancies, there are components of it she has not made click.

The lack of strong economic social nets and the wealth disparity are two. Why would the Republic, who prides itself on freedom and equality, not preserve people from absolute poverty and homelessness? Why would they freely sanction the opportunity for corporate exploitation and devastation to flourish? It’s a concept that she would hold is unfathomable in a society that contests slavery and oppression.  
Yet another is its predisposition to entertain the criminality and injustices of outsiders. Not the Empire per se, but an abundance of the Galactic Senate not solely turns a blind eye to the opportunism and immoralities of the Hutt Cartel, but actively cuts deals with them too, which further strengthens their grip on those who make their homes in these territories.

The latest of these social enigmas to Elu is a planet that she was recently brought up to speed on – Belsavis. An ancient world, with obscure, inexplicable technology. It’s a planet that was undisclosed in the Outer Rim, immersed with deep, nigh impenetrable prisons, but only some sections of this was built by the Republic. Everything beyond that, they found already waiting.  
In all honesty, Elu does not carry the full batch of specifics for this hub, nor what it contains in the depths of its flurry of actual tiers of cells, predominantly stasis-powered. What she is knowledgeable of is that the Republic imprisons its most hazardous and maleficent convicts and beasts here, to set them away from the rest of their worlds.

However, the history of these inmates is outstretched and travels back decades, centuries even. And supposedly, the descendants inherit the sentences of their predecessors, sometimes ancestors. How can the Republic house generations of people in prison for transgressions they did not commit? Why would they perpetuate innocents to dwindle in cages that are not theirs? That’s not the laws of the Republic.  
But she can’t deny that there’s a veil of secrecy draping Belsavis, which only serves to inflate her apprehension on the nature and insidiousness of its contents.

So, why then is she here? The answer is straightforward – the SIS called her here, by name even. Elu wasn’t relayed the particulars of what they required her for, simply what was on the tally.  
One group of subjects who’re held in these facilities that is not innocent, are the Sith. As a new Galactic War was set in motion, the Empire excavated info on this world and, naturally, assaulted it to gain their own assets back.

The circumstances she finds herself in today are not ideal. She’s situated in one of these antique prison installations, fighting for her life against imperials. The construction Elu has gotten inside is a subterranean complex of elaborate pathways and labyrinthine columns of prison cells, a slew of them injected with force fields or just straight up electrical fences. In some cases, they show every sign of being conceived of to _protect_ the wardens, in favor of simply keeping the criminals locked up. And with the list of inmates, Elu was not startled by that.

This current facility is hands down a congealed production of Republic tech and a foundation of whatever the previous civilization was, which laid the groundwork. Lights, force fields and auxiliary devices were planted by the Republic, but the outlandish icons and artistry on the walls, the stone-esque but way sturdier material, the giant machines that cordon off walls and halls, including the ramps and gargantuan doorways, were not. Again, it was the true founders of this part-icy world.

Elu is at present in one of these enormous rooms, where one half is open except for several rows of alien tech and Republic security barricades, in case of an outbreak.  
The second half possesses two bridges which lead to one doorway on the west, but the bridges themselves also hold ramps down to a floor below, with more prison cells. Besides that, on Elu’s side, there are two more exits – one to the north and one to the east.

The whole area of this chamber cracks and shudders with the racket of blaster fire, thermal detonators and vibroblades, either crashing into one another, armor or flesh. The air practically electrifies as Elu produces her lightsaber and puts it into the mix, bouncing off shots and pulling from the Force to lift and hurl rubble at their enemies.

“Look out!”, rings a voice from her left flank and she stares at her foremost partner in this agitation – a somewhat slimmer yellow-green-skinned lady with a line of black tattoos in a square pattern across her nose, cheeks and chin, topped by shoulder-length brown hair, clothed in a light, flexible grey and white armor, wielding a custom blaster pistol. Her keen light blue eyes center on two targets that attempt to toss grenades their way and she peppers their chests. Bull’s eye. Elu will hand it to the mirialan SIS agent, Shariss Kartur, that she can engage in battle as gracefully as she prowls in the shadows.

However, her alertness is not at a 100% rate. In the capacity of a spy, she spends precious little time out in the open, and thus she tends to get blown away by proper soldiers. Throwing a glimpse at Shariss, Elu is distressed by the trio of imperial commandos which comes scaling up ropes from the lower levels at their left side, to flank her and a couple of Republic troops.  
“Agent!” she yells, but it’s a belated cautioning.

Shariss doesn’t stand a chance if she is to lean on her own two legs and agility. There is one door alone to her salvation.  
Extending her arm, Elu invokes the strength of the Force to snake itself around Shariss’ waist and she forcibly jerks the agent out of her exposed standing, and she soars into Elu’s awaiting arm. The Jedi then renders herself the agent’s shield and repels every single blaster shot with the lightsaber, reflecting a few onto the shooters so that they fall, while the women retreat.

The mirialan, who’d lost her bearing when she was yanked around, sits down behind one of the barricades and breathes out heavily.  
“Stars…that was too close. Cheers, miss Minnah. Owe you one now.”

“Don’t mention it, miss Kartur.”

Another chunk of bolts dart across their heads, and the duo has to anticipate a gap in the onslaught, if they are to trump these people. This is way tougher than either had trusted.  
The Sith Empire’s forces are loose on Belsavis and present in this bunker, but they are not actually the main foe. They’re practically filler here, camouflaged amid the rabble.  
“Damn Sith. Just keep unloading these prisoners on us. Where the hell are they getting them from?”

It is indeed prisoners – from a variety of species – which are the prevailing foes for the Republic here. From what they’ve been able to gather, the Sith that were unchained by the imperial infiltrators have controlled the brittle minds of these other convicts, though it’s not truly that methodical. In fact, the prisoners, in their craze, fire on anything; practically at random. It is the rampage which the Sith find essential, of course.

“You’d know better than me”, the Jedi replies. “I’m just here for the Sith.”

“Yeah, well, unless you’ve got some Jedi teleportation magic, we gotta topple these poor sods.”

“Agreed. We have to determine some type of plan.”

Shariss pushes herself against the shield and carefully susses out the field beyond the bulwark and then sits back down.  
“Yeah, couldn’t tell you where we’d pivot this, though. They’ve gotta have rounded up one or two hundred prisoners by now, with the imps swept up in that count. If we were to stab in the dark, I’d say-“  
But her consideration hits a wall. The gateways to the north and east – roughly where they’re sitting – are tossed wide and three additional dozen of mixed prisoners hotfoot it inside and open fire wildly.  
“Oh, for fuck’s-…Captain, take cover!”, she hurls at the Republic officer running the show for the special forces soldiers they’ve got allied with them.

The male cathar layered with brown and black fur glances at it with dismay.  
“What the-…where’d they come from?!”

“Who knows?!”

“Where’s our rearguard? They’re supposed to handle this shit!”

“Makes no difference! Find cover, asap!”

The spec ops squad and the extra troops latched onto their numbers leap away, with two of them getting shot by bolts deriving from the west. They’re really in boiling hot water here.  
Elu sets herself in the center front of the team, to wheel her double-edged lightsaber before her and redirects many of the clips that dart her way, but even her stamina is not endless, nor are her defenses foolproof.

Shariss is eventually the person who clutches the sleeve of her robes and drags her into shelter.  
“Let’s not lose you too, shall we?”

Now it’s Elu’s turn to be winded.  
“Thanks. I just…had to shield the largest amount I could.”

“I get it, but if we surrender you, we won’t beat the odds.”

“Point taken.”  
Remaining where they are, with their arcona medic working overtime to patch up their wounded and practically gaining no ground to their goal, the view is bleak for the squads involved.

But just as they’re on the brink of getting swamped and overrun, an outbreak of blaster fire rains behind the eastern door opening and three prisoners, all with minimal armor plating, are popped with a couple of hasty shots. This is tailed by a mass of excess fire, like a knock-on effect, which all but annihilates the eastern flank. Because the prisoners run on instinct, they hardly factor in a fair battle format. Since the Republic troops alter their targeting to the north and west in light of this, assuming its their reinforcements, Elu and Shariss flip their optics to the east and encounter an utter shock.

Storming inside, high on confidence and bravado, is a dark brown-tinted human woman with a beskar armor in red and white, with scarlet bob cut-style hair and piercing yellow cosmetic eyes. Her blaster revolvers fire heavy shot after shot, nearly striking true for every single one.  
And she’s not by herself either – Mako, a light-hued blonde male human in blue beskar with an electro staff, a feisty little brown-robed jawa with a swift-firing pistol and a rifle-bearing devaronian in the stern, pursue her and they stuff the room and the enemy prisoners with rounds.

Collectively, they’re next to as deadly as the Republic strike team, which is not at all unrealistic to buy into, if the tales of their exploits are anything to go by. However, they don’t explicitly set their sights on the imperials, which bodes ill for the reps themselves. Hopefully, they’re not on yet another identical op. Elu just can’t confront that…  
“Champion?”, she speaks audibly,

This prompts Jovana to transition to the Jedi and level her revolver unswervingly at Elu, fixed on firing if there’s a complication in the air. But that’s not at all what she gleans. With what she’s showcased, Jov’s brow rises and her eyes follow suit.  
“Uh…Elu’ravi? You’re here? But that’s not-…”

In the corner of gaze, the Champion unexpectedly pins down how a duo of imperial troops are lining up to blast Elu to pieces, by virtue of how receptive she is when trained on Jov. Figuring that she’ll regret this in the long run, the hunter averts her revolvers and drives four shots – two on each – into the imp bodies, upon areas where it’s near to or definitely fatal. Both drop to the floor.  
In the same round, Elu jumps up and with the Force, knocks one of the prisoners into two others that were mentally captured by the new arrivals, blacking out the whole party in one fell swoop.

Continuously doling out attacks and blasts, the two women soar at one another, but as they aren’t completely keeping their eyes on the other, they collide at the second they hit one of the free barricades. Elu ends up with her back flat onto it and Jov, who half trips over, levels her arm on the top half, as to not jam the plate onto the twi’lek. However, it also accidentally positions them straight in front of each other, with Jov’s face mere inches away from Elu’s.

The twi’lek is compelled to raise her eyes, seeing as how they’re not nearly equal in height; Jov is just south of a head taller. To pique her curiosity, the twi’lek’s cheeks darken somewhat and she purses her lips quietly.  
The hunter appears pleased with this, nodding her greeting with a subtle, charming smirk.  
“Hey, babe. Fancy meeting you here in this hunk o’ junk.”

Elu glares at her to cover up her previous conduct, anything but impressed.  
“…hilarious. Very.”

“Now, in all the places I’d imagined we’d speak next, this primo prison world wasn’t one. You got it bad for criminals or something, Jedi? Cuz if you do, I’d bet I’m now major news on that front, across the galaxy.”

The twi’lek exhales sourly and turns her face to the side. Even so, Jov gets an exemplary angle of her lovely plump lips, the round cheeks, the glittering blue eyes, and the fine craftsmanship of her markings. Jov can appreciate a collection of expertly drawn tattoos, due to possessing a bunch of her own, from head to toe. She’d happily explore what’s beyond that line, but the Jedi is neatly bundled in her snug robes for the moment.

“Flaunting your criminal status isn’t sexy”, Elu contests.

“No? Then how come you seem to chase me like a kovollian hound?”

“Completely incidental, I’ll have you know.”

“Uh-huh.”

For a few muffled seconds, Elu internally wonders if the Force is yanking her chain. Is this a test? How is it within the bounds of possibility that they can repeatedly bump into each other in this fashion?  
Inhaling substantially, Elu delicately plants her free hand on the hunter’s chestplate and nudges her backwards, to warrant herself some breathing room. Jov acquiesces without protest.  
“Look, could we…not do this right now?"

“Do what?”

“…we need to stay sharp, okay? We’re still under fire, if that slipped out of your radar.”

“Oh yeah.” She looks up at the battle. “You distracted me.”

“…I wasn’t aspiring to.”

“Uh, boss?”, asks Gault from one of the adjacent shelters. “Need your head in the game here. A couple of waves of these flunkies and I’d rather they hit you than me.”

Jov shrugs in his direction.  
“Don’t sweat it, but I’m not doing the whole business. Get on their flank.”

“Who, me? You’re asking the wrong fella, chum.”

“Flank ‘em, Gault, or I’ll be the one to shove fire up your ass.”

The devaronian breathes out in a compliant effect.  
“…always with the persuasion on fleek.”

“Torian, cover him, will ya? Else he’ll sit and cower the entire time.”

“Hey, I haven’t run out of earshot yet!”

The blonde human nods tersely.  
“You got it.”

The Champion gestures with her gun at herself, while staring at the jawa.  
“Blizz, you’re with me. Don’t let them hit Mako.”

The little guy jumps up in an excitable way.  
“Blizz switch on turbo fire! Not be much left of bad guys!”

Jov then glances at her slicer companion, and technically oldest partner. Well, since a certain twi’lek smuggler, anyway.  
“Mako, how we doing for locale?”

The shorter and younger human is kneeling close to the hunter, her hand tapping away at a datapad.  
“According to the intel we picked up in the last databank, it should be here somewhere. Wouldn’t put it past our target to stash it behind that wave of meat…”

“Fantastic.”

While she unleashes a torrent of shots to drag the attention away from her friends, she overhears a voice to her left.  
“Uh, excuse me. Do you two…know each other?”

Heeding that angle, Jov notes how a markedly pretty mirialan has parked next to Elu, and this duo heads off an assault from the opposite end of Jov and Blizz.  
The twi’lek sighs with a tinge of annoyance.  
“That’s not how I’d characterize it exactly, but…”

The mirialan sizes the mandalorian up and Jov returns the favor.  
“You’re Jovana Vlasic, the Grand Champion of the Great Hunt.”

“And you’re not a soldier”, is the hunter’s answer.

She brandishes an amused smirk on her painted lips and winks at Jov.  
“Shariss Kartur, SIS.”

“Oh. Well, shit. Not the first time I crash into one of you guys.”

“I know. Hasn’t exactly slipped past me that you’re on the top of the top-shelf among our most wanted.”

“Uh-huh. Not my dream goal, but it is an achievement, I guess. Looking to haul me in and make the big creds, spy girl?”

Shariss, amazingly, shrugs coolly and releases a couple of bolts at a few imperials who got excessively brave.  
“Not per se, though my chief would be mighty proud if I did. You and I maintain a common ally, miss Vlasic.”

On her end, the mandalorian lifts her right arm and a hatch unfolds on her wrist guard, deploying a mini missile, which impacts the area near some droids, sending them flying into parts.  
“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“I’m an affiliate of miss Shodem, you see.”

Though she had expected a cockier response, Jov’s face now glows at hearing the name of the galaxy’s most notorious smuggler in modern day, particularly once she scooped up Nok Drayen’s treasures and wealth. And by chance, she’s also the Champion’s oldest friend.  
“No shit? Hah, Bery! Not what I’d reckoned. How’s that lil’ schutta doing?”

“Oh, she’s fine and dandy, I presume. And I believe she’s made her way to this planet too, somewhere.”

“Busy street, I guess.”

With this chatter, Elu scowls peevishly at the agent.  
“Miss Kartur, don’t deviate from the topic at hand, please.”  
She then diverts this furrowed brow at Jov.  
“What the hell are you on Belsavis for? This is an extremely restricted area. A restricted _Republic_ area.”

“Didn’t stop the imps.”

“You’re a mandalorian, not imperial.”

She vaporizes a number of attackers from where she is; though for some reason, they keep coming.  
“True that.”

“Did I not ask you to leave me be already? What is so hard to follow in that logic?”

“You got a high opinion of yourself, girl. I ain’t here for you this time either. This is mission-related.”

A stern glare falls upon Jov then, sourced off the twi’lek.  
“Hold right there. Are you telling me that you’re…working for the Empire? _Again?”_

“That’s right.”

The Jedi closes her eyes exasperatedly and buries her face in one hand.  
“…you really learned nothing from the last ordeal, did you?”

But this doesn’t sit well with Jov, who briefly dispatches a wrinkled brow against her.  
“Excuse me? The fuck is up with that? If you hadn’t picked up on it, the Reps aren’t exactly my greatest fans, the way things are. I had to gather what support I could from anyone.”

Even if Elu is thoroughly distraught to hear this, that she may have to contend with this insanely talented hunter again, she recognizes that the reasoning isn’t…false. Force preserve her…what would master Seros say here? He’d demand she detains Jov, but…  
“It’s not to hunt Jedi once more, is it?”

The hunter dips her head to the right.  
“Why would you figure that, out here? Isn’t this where Sith are trapped, not the way other way around?”

Elu lifts her shoulders with discontent.  
“That’s what Sith desire around the clock. Our deaths…  
But it’s a Jedi, isn’t it? Some master that’s here to protect Belsavis? Must be.”

Jov stares stonily at the twi’lek for a couple of unrelaxed moments, and it’s up in the air whether she’ll confess or not. Elu is raring to be mistaken, but in this regard, it doesn’t sound consistent with the Champion.  
To her mild startlement, Jov spins her guns with her index fingers in a casual, dismissive vein.  
“Sorry, cute stuff. It’s…what’d you call it?” She then looks meaningfully at the Jedi. “Oh yeah. ‘Confidential’.”

Being imitated in such a snarky manner does not satisfy Elu, and she crinkles both nose and brow, including all but pouting at the hunter. That’s reasonably not the type of disposition one would requisition from a Jedi, and Jov is curious what her master would think. But in a similar respect, the fact that she can be so expressive, personifying her emotions, relinquishing who she is besides the rigidness of a Jedi, it’s…ever so tempting to the human. She can’t acknowledge that she’s capable of resisting it.

By and by, Jov hoists her hands, to show she’s outmatched.  
“…okay, okay. It’s not a Jedi, alright? I swear.”

Elu’s features relax and there’s a glimmer of relief which strikes her.  
“Better not be lying.”

“Said I swear, didn’t I? I can’t lie for shit. Never been fit for it.”

“Hiding the truth is a form of lie.”

“When did I not disclose anything to you?”

The Jedi does not have a decent retort and because the prisoners haven’t ceased their deluge of bolts, Elu doesn’t have adequate gaps to really dig into this.  
“Listen-“

In the faraway side of the room, they hear Gault shouting.  
“Boss!”

Jov holds up a finger for Elu.  
“Hold that thought.”

She rolls out from the cover and whips out her revolvers. Elu extends her eyes alarmingly.  
“Champion!”

With a daring maneuver, she floods the field with rounds, tricking the prisoners into making her the focal point. She drops in behind a bordering hideout for a couple of seconds, until Gault and Torian seizes a triumph, downing some of the defenses, though they still haven’t fully demolished the whole line.  
The Republic unit then charges into that hollow, to profit as highly as viable, but Jov herself shakes a leg up to Elu’s side once more.

“You were saying?”

The twi’lek breathes out, releasing one that she hadn’t noticed she was curtailing.  
“Don’t…”

“What?”

Elu clenches her hand around the hilt of her lightsaber.  
“_Don’t_ overextend yourself like that. Not in this area.”

In her delighted amazement at Elu’s reaction, the human grins.  
“Did that throw you into a tizzy, Jedi?”

Elu jerks to her sharply and glowers tightly.  
“…stop imagining things.”

“Got pretty crisp ears, actually.”

“You must leave”, the twi’lek states abruptly.

This naturally rattles the mandalorian.  
“Leave? Now why the hell would I be on board with that?”

“Because this isn’t your…turf. Not where you belong. Your presence just…confuses things.”

Jov snorts in an uncommitted regard.  
“Things or you?”

Elu’s brow knits a tad harder.  
“…don’t.”

“Want me to beat it, huh? But I just got here.”

“And? I don’t see what the trouble would be with simply vacating the premises and leaving it to us.”

“Wow. You’re not a super smooth date, are you?”

The Jedi presses her fingers into the hilt. Breathe, Elu…  
Although she calls upon Jov’s immediate disengagement, her partner is not so snappy to cast the mandalorian out.  
“Whoa, hold your fires, you two. No need to get nasty here. Miss Vlasic, any chance you’d be willing to listen to an offer?”

“From you? Shoot.”

“You’re a mercenary, aren’t you?”

Jov rubs her nose in a mildly contemplative vein.  
“Hmm. Well, bounty hunter, but sure.”

Shariss incredulously raises an eyebrow.  
“And that differs from a merc how?”

“It isn’t-…uh. Well, we don’t seriously like-…this isn’t such a-“  
She halts her constant breaks and looks to her friend.  
“Mako?”

The slicer blinks rapidly up at her.  
“What? We’re mercs, Jov. We take up arms for whoever pays.”

The Champion stares and grunts with displeasure at her and then flips to Shariss.  
“…you know what? Nevermind that.”

Each of the three women leap up to put a salvo – or the Force – into some of their imperial opponents and it’s looking more and more as if the Republic team is going to breach the western doorway, already claiming the bridge.  
“We could broker a deal here, Champion. I’m apprised of that you’re the most wanted and hunted individual in the Republic, but also that you’re a shot to be reckoned with. And, let’s be real, you don’t march in step with the Empire, nor to any singular Sith.”

“How’d ya figure?”

“You’ve got confirmed kills on a couple of outstanding imperials and more than one Sith.”

Though Jov isn’t ecstatic that the SIS has this on record, she will own up. Shouldn’t expect anything less…  
“They’re kinda stuck-up, pompous, embellished dickheads. Most of ‘em, anyway.”

“Got it in one. Or three, I guess.  
If we’re not on the trail of parallel targets – and we’re not – I’m prepared to compromise with you to get the most out of this scenario for us both.”

Playing ball with the SIS and the Jedi? Not where she imagined she’d be standing last year. What would Cierah tell her? Then again…  
“Huh. What’s the job?”

The mirialan levels a finger on the way to the western door.  
“We’re headed down that tunnel. The place we’re in now is a pre-chamber to cells containing a couple of right foul-playing Sith, who used to be elements of a larger group. Their names are Lord Brontes and Lord Styrek, styled the ‘Architect of Fear’ and the ‘Corrupter of Darvannis’ respectively, but they were simply two pieces in a larger puzzle. They coexisted with four others in a fellowship known as the ‘Dread Masters’ – mighty Sith with secrets unlocked to the mortal mind and how to bend it to their wills…or purely to break someone.”

Jov regards her partially with skepticism, but also like she’s on the edge of laughter.  
“…the Dread Masters? You’re shitting me.”

“Not even a little.”

“Are Sith just like, one-trick nexu? All gloom and doom and weird dark fetishes.”

On her end, Elu folds her arms.  
“You’re the one working for them.”

“Didn’t say they don’t pay handsomely.”

Shariss indicates with her finger at Jov.  
“The Republic’s got that card too, y’know.  
Anyway, the imperials have made a go at unlocking the entire bunch. The Dread Masters are six like I noted, and the wardens here have divided them two and two. When the Empire forced its way onto Belsavis, the SIS called in any and all allies and favors. Knight Elu’ravi was one of the Jedi contacts we could employ who’d willingly go. But when us two and Thunderstorm squad here caught up to foil the imps, the Sith harnessed their powers over terror to turn prisoners in neighboring encampments into a frenzy, setting this free-for-all into motion.  
The job, as you so eloquently put it, is to put down these imps, and either drive the Dread Masters back into their cells…or push them out of existence for good.”

“Huh. Juicy. And the pay?”

“Well, that’s up for debate, naturally, but it wouldn’t be an impossibility for me to shuffle a big stack of credits right into your account. And as a bonus, I could chat with my bosses. Maybe ensure that you and your team receive some leeway, knock you off the Most Wanted list for a time.”

One who is not in line with her and profoundly distressed by this resolution, is Elu.  
“Shariss!”

Shariss swings and directs her gaze at the twi’lek.  
“Hear me out, Jedi. We may break into those doors, but the Sith? We won’t make short work of them anytime soon, not sans backup. This lady is one of the hardiest, gnarliest warriors in the galaxy. Plus, she beat a freaking Jedi master.”

Elu bites at her lower lip, avoiding Jov’s incoming looks for all she’s worth.  
“Yes, but…I can’t-…what’ll we do concerning the terrors? The Sith’s perception of the psychological bridge is severe.”

“Well, word is that she withstood a Jedi mind trick.” She glances at the mandalorian for confirmation. “Right?”

Jov’s eyes dart about, marginally nonplussed.  
“Jedi mind trick? What’s that?  
Oh, you mean the hand thing?”, she asks and performs the same act which both Jarro and Elu has undertaken on her.

The twi’lek groans, partially out of irritation, but with a tinge of humiliation.  
“…please don’t sum it up so flippantly.”

Shariss giggles slightly.  
“That’s a yes, Champion. The hand thing.”

“Oh yeah, Jarro flipped it on me”, Jov testifies. “Told me I would surrender. No clue why he bought into that it’d do the job.”

“I bet that’d prevail against Sith too. And you’re shielding me and the others as we go, miss Minnah.”

Elu and Shariss split a crucial and poignant visual link, where the Jedi’s intention is not unlike a pleading that the mirialan ought not go through with this, that Jov is dangerous, but Shariss does not subscribe to an equal untrustworthiness.  
With that waste of time, Elu instead draws herself to the hunter, scoping her out. The Champion renders it a two-way street by locking their eyes in tandem. A couple of empty seconds float by, which precedes Jov’s playful mannerism. The hunter winks at her, which rattles the Jedi’s inner cage. She’s so unquestionably aggravating, while simultaneously something…that must remain unremarked.

Elu inhales and exhales but once, to cool herself off. She has to refresh her memory of master Seros’ recommendation – the Jedi Code above all. There is no emotion, there is peace.  
…but who legitimately believes that?  
“Okay, I’ll yield. But after this, I will insist that you stay out of my life, permanently. I’ve had enough of you and your antics from now on.”

The mandalorian shrugs cheekily.  
“Hey, I don’t get a say in what fate’s up to. Or the Force.”

“Vlasic…you’re killing me.”

Jov chuckles and averts herself towards Shariss, reaching out with her hand.  
“You’ve got yourself a good old-fashioned deal, agent.”

Shariss smirks with equal measure and slaps her hand into the hunter’s.  
“Glad we could talk some sense into you. Then let’s bag ourselves some Sith.”

With Jov slickly rotating her revolvers in her hands, Mako stands up and installs herself by her partner.  
“Uh, is this a bright move, Jov? Darth Tormen may not take kindly to this.”

“Who says he’s gotta hear it?”, the mandalorian responds. “He didn’t tell us _not_ to grab side business.”

“I…guess so. He just creeps me the hell out…”  
  


* * *

  
Following an hour of gruesome engagement and steady advance of the Republic and merc-assisted team, the duo of Dread Masters is mowed down, once and for all. It was an overextended and laborious clash, with disproportionate diversions from the Sith, as they hedged their bets in hopes of escaping with some of their resources. If only they could’ve met up with their other four colleagues, they might’ve stood a sliver of a chance.

Luckily, Jovana and her unit are renowned for excelling in every task they set upon themselves, never failing to bring in or put down a target they’re paid for. And this win was secured mainly for the hunter squad’s hard labor, as they shepherded and expertly funneled the Dread Masters into precisely the perfect spot. Elu would’ve been terrified of how effectively they could manipulate Force users, had she not already fell to the same tricks a year ago, albeit in a contrasting setting.

The Sith duo did not get a stay of execution this time, however. Detaining them proved out of the question, on account of that they would not relent. Death was ostensibly preferable to protracted Republic hospitality.  
It was Jov who put the final bolt into Lord Styrak, shortly prior to Elu’ravi’s lightsaber piercing Lord Brontes. If nothing else, the assault on their cognitive functions ended with the Sith.

Here in the aftermath, with Thunderstorm squad’s commandos mopping up and fortifying the perimeter, Shariss is discussing the contract with Mako, conferring their transfer info so that the credits can be distributed. Better do it now, when the hunter team is not yet calling it a day on Belsavis.  
Meanwhile, Jov is browsing a datapad she took from an imperial grunt, when she’s approached by the one Jedi in this union, though it’s not without minor reservations.

Initially, Elu is moderately indecisive, of two minds what she should say or how she’s meant to even stand in front of the hunter. She was averse to this coalition and yet it paid off. Immoderately well, perhaps.  
Is it best if she’s repentant? Ask to make amends for her previous temper? No, that wouldn’t do. She regrets attempting to deny their partnership, but she isn’t sorry for doubting the hunter or the accusations she threw. Jov _did_ kill a Jedi.

Ultimately, she settles on prolonging their newfound neutrality.  
“Champion. Do you aim to forge ahead with your preparations here on Belsavis?”

The mandalorian lets the datapad sink and she aligns her face at the twi’lek. Though she wears no cosmetics and no other boosting supplies, Elu will silently admit there’s…an enticing factor to this countenance. Jov has a natural flair to her, with a delicately lined and smooth face. Not what a Jedi is recommended to be preoccupied with, but…it’s a pity they’re on opposite ends.

“Yeah, gotta keep truckin'”, Jov apprises her. “There’s a mission we can’t afford not to tie up. Presses us deeper into Belsavis, but I can’t anticipate it’ll get worse from here on out.”  
The Jedi’s eyebrows furrow marginally, and on reflex, Jov flashes a smidgen of a cocky, undeniable and nonetheless fetching smirk that she can rear so effortlessly. It grates in Elu’s psyche.  
“Don’t have to pout, cute stuff. We’ll be fine.”

Elu huffs and draws her face away.  
“…I wasn’t worried.”

“And just like I promised, our quarry won’t affect the Jedi. Nor the Republic much either, really.  
Not gonna lie, I’m not entirely sure why he’s so gized for this guy. Doesn’t ooze of value.”

“Who?”

“My employer.”

“And you won’t consider outing this man either?”

“Not while he’s my lifeline.”

Elu releases air from her nose and lays a hand on her forehead.  
“This is not a terribly sturdy line, though. These pacts are beneficial purely for the Sith. There will come a day when you lament that you volunteered for them. They care nothing for the lives of others, least of all outsiders like you and the mandalorians.”

The Jedi had estimated a mocking tone, laughter or a dramatic denial of her words – it’s the imperial stock answer – but Jov is not so crude, it would seem. She makes up for it with a contemplative, far-flung gaze, which soars into the distance.  
“Hmm. Y’know, I reckon you’re on the right track with that. But life ain’t that easy.”

Not at all what Elu had thought would surge from those slick, well-shaped lips. Not restricted to stability and battle prowess, but insightfulness as well? She wonders if…  
“Look, I can take the hint that you’re not into baring facts of yourself or this this employer free of charge. So…what if we make an exchange? Not credits, but information. A favor for a favor. I lay out some details revolving around my master and you tell me of your employer. Does that sound…satisfactory?”

“Your master? Who’s that?”

“That would be telling.”

Jov’s brow hardens, though likely out of concentration than being disgruntled. She’s fully dwelling on this.  
“It’s-…I might.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Could be.”

Someone must take the first step in these instances, and the least she can do is nudge the boat. With suspense in her heart and an exhale, Elu edges along.  
“I’m going to trust you. My master is a man by the name of Jun Seros, rank: Jedi Master.”

This sets in motion the altogether first scene where Jov reflects extreme discomfort in Elu’s vicinity. She no less than freezes up, overstretching the muscles in her arms and jaw. This is sobering for her and Elu could’ve known this was to be the result.  
“Seriously? Seros…is your master?”

“Easy there, hunter. This doesn’t require you to panic. Even if my master is tracking you and deployed an arrest warrant with your name, he didn’t invite me to stand with him and I’m not committed to it either.”

But Jov doesn’t dispel her inner pressure that quickly.  
“Your boss commissioned an ambush squad on my allies and terminated them. No sweat off his back.”

Elu hangs her head somewhat, deflated by Jov’s allegation.  
“I know. He is…occasionally a man of hardline measures.”

“Can bet your ass on that. Never heard of a Jedi who puts out hits on people.”

“What? No, he isn’t-“ But she refrains from expanded the objections, for can she in all honesty disavow that this couldn’t have been painted in that light? Jov is in the right.  
“My master is…not trouble-free to affiliate with. He’s obstinate, unyielding and governed by prideful impulses. His achievements are indisputable, but…they can come at a price.  
He is not a man bereft of compassion and empathy, however. He holds the citizens of the Republic dear and he’d turn his back on his own life and morals, if it would prompt an improved future.”

Jov frowns at the Jedi and vexedly flits her hand to disregard the words.  
“To hell with his hypocritical bunk. What’ve you got on his strengths? His training? That’s actually stuff of consequence.”

However, Elu draws a line here, holding up her hand at Jov.  
“No. I’m sorry, but this is one aspect I will not afford you. I’m not revealing my master’s weaknesses or faults. You’ve proven yourself a powerful woman and a warrior of peerless competence at this point. I…I won’t assign a handicap on him, if you face him.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll tackle him with or without your guidance.”

Elu is sensing a spiraling urgency in herself, which is partially precipitated by Jov’s spiking hostility and seething of master Seros, as it spills from her like a tangy stench for a Jedi.  
“Please, miss Vlasic. I beg you…do not attempt to fight him.”

“Wanna protect him that badly?”

“For both of your sakes. I can’t stomach the idea of losing him and…” She trains her eyes plainly into Jov’s, hoping to broadcast her sincerity to the human. “…and you’re an honorable woman at heart. You pretend to be cold-hearted and credit-lusting, but you’re more. I’ve witnessed that here, at the very least.”

Jov does not break that visual bond between them, possibly tantalized by its intent. It’s clear that she wouldn’t be influenced through Elu’s Force abilities, at any rate.  
She then scoffs with prudence.  
“Whatever. Won’t change much.”

“It will, mark my words. Allow me to address him, dissuade him from this…crusade of his.”

“He’ll pick up on that? Fat chance.”

“If you make every effort to, then it could. Please…this doesn’t need to end in blood. You can go your separate ways.”

Jov attempts to stay tenacious, to dig her heels in, not giving in to sweetness for probably ten seconds straight. But the beseeching, coupled with the twi’lek’s soft, pleading eyes is…a worse onslaught than Jov has ever held up against.  
In time, she elevates a hand, in a call for her surrender.  
“Not gonna give an oath or anything, but if that guy stays outta my way, well…”

“Then you will follow suit?”

“I’ll…take it into account.”

Elu nods peacefully. She doesn’t rejoice or look fully at ease, but she is pleased with her progress.  
“Thank you.” Thereafter, she observes the hunter almost expectantly.

“What?”

“Well, we…deliberated, didn’t we? I was holding out hope you would adhere to it…”

“Oh, right. Guess I could do that. I’d be obliged if you didn’t go spreading it around, though.”

The Jedi dips her head.  
“I won’t.”

Against her better judgment, Jov faces her and disperses the facts.  
“His name is Darth Tormen. Not Dark Council…wack, but he is a Darth.”

An idealistic streak in Elu was retaining that he would not be a deplorable figure, but alas.  
Her shoulders drop.  
“Dammit. You chose a poor client, Champion.”

“Wasn’t my call, remember? Your Republic hounded my ass and this Tormen guy saw his shot to recruit me for a petty price.”

“Granted, but…he’s a blight on the galaxy. He betrayed his way to the top and he’s committed numerous atrocious in the last war – the Battles of Shimen IV, Nao Ban, Rzitt, even Coruscant…they’ve all suffered his ruthless malice.”

“Okay, he’s a bad guy. What’d you suggest I oughta do then? Tell him to go fuck off and throw myself in prison? Your master gave me that spiel once and I had to kill another Jedi, which I actually had no wish to touch.”

“I’m not inspiring you to endanger yourself, but…” She raises her arms in a faintly hopeless gesture. “Don’t count on him, Champion. He’ll betray and discard you when he catches sight of that you’re not worth the trouble…or that your danger reaches the extreme.”

Despite sitting in a precarious, discomforting space, Jov can…value a candid concern for her wellbeing.  
“Haven’t missed that. I could…keep it in mind.”

“Good, please do.  
Now, it would potentially behoove us if your unit departed right away, while everyone is locked in combat. Master Seros would ask that I arrest you, but…”

“Not to insult ya, but we’ve played this game once, haven’t we? If you repeated that, you’d have lost the plot.”

Elu tries not to let her tempers flare, but it does sting to digest that Jov’s suggestion holds true.  
“Not inaccurate. And furthermore, though you are a criminal, the most notorious one hassled by the Republic, you are not…beyond the pale. You genuinely live up to the name of mandalorian. You assisted us here and for that, I can’t go behind your back and trick you. It wouldn’t be the way of Jedi, nor my own personal code. Just…don’t make me regret it.”

To this news, Jov bares a smile at the Jedi.  
“Fairness trumps fake justice, does it? I like your style, cute stuff. You’re a Jedi I can respect.”

The twi’lek shakes her head barely noticeable and flaps her hand away.  
“…just leave, will you?”

Jov winks at her and then retreats to her crew. However, as she goes narrowly beyond earshot, she sounds off one final time.  
“Still waiting on that drink, Jedi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, skipped the fight with the Dread Masters. Wasn't that important and if you've read my previous stuff, you ought to be aware that they don't really fill a role in my version of post-class story events, like they do in game._   
_And yes, that was Shariss Kartur, friend of Risha and Sumalee from the smuggler story and who...also slept with Cierah in that one short fic. She's gonna appear a few more times in this tale. I know the timing here doesn't fully line up with the official storyline (the smuggler meets Shariss post-Belsavis) but...whatever._   
_Jov and Shariss met in Price Of A Sun's Kiss, and didn't make much of a big deal about that they'd met before, but they were mostly keeping their affiliations quiet._


	5. Tarnished family

_“If you believe you can distance yourself from the harm you’ve caused, you’re deluding yourself. You’re not some mindless tool, you’re accountable. Your actions will catch up with you eventually.”_

Regret. Self-questioning. Jovana has never been one to revel in such notions, to be perfectly honest. It always sounded counterproductive, uncalled for and not a valuable use of her time in this galaxy. But…maybe she’s underestimated her own soul and the wisdom of those around her; even in the hands and mouths of her enemies. Not a comforting thought, but there it is. It’s very much a distinct likelihood at this stage.

Jun Seros was a…dubious target to deal with, in particular because he painted it on himself and rendered her an enemy. She had to strike back, didn’t she? She couldn’t let that be.  
Hitting in return wasn’t ever where her disinclination lied, however. That simply came off as a natural reaction to someone else’s ferocity and rivalry, to which she’d blithely shove a gauntlet up their grill, pending their clarity of the mistake.

No, what urged her to reconsider her exploits and…misdeeds were what she assured herself would be a necessity to magnetize him, the siren call of her goal. Securing the Republic officials on Belsavis and Voss was no major hitch. It’s what she does, the job description of a bounty hunter.  
But her actions on Corellia? Terrorizing, demolishing of public property, putting shock collars on non-humans – their elders and youngsters no less – surging her way across a battlefield of homes. This wasn’t what she signed up for when she cast off from Nar Shaddaa all those years ago, was it? What would Bery say?  
And in the end, was this why she challenged and put a bolt in Tormen’s head? To redeem herself? In her mind, he was the greater difficulty, what would make her heart pump the fiercest, but…

For the time being, Jov and her team has divorced themselves from the center hubs of the war. They took the Blood Fist – their resilient D-5 Mantis Patrol Craft - out of the core worlds and to the Mid Rim. The existing world they’re on is identified as Thelader Impa, but it’s not a location of breathtaking scenery, more than the open fields. It’s a farming land, one where you could virtually disappear into seclusion and introspection; striking home at what Jov is craving right now.

They’re not by any of the farms themselves, though, but in the outskirts of the largest city, which itself is a fraction of Republic and imperial standards. The buildings aren’t even as impressive and not very dense - no skyscrapers here. They’re three or four stories at most, which affords plenty of view of the immense fields which circles it everywhere, in every corner. It’s an ocean of nutrition-producing grounds.

She’s off on her own, carrying a bottle of some random green-colored liquor she purchased in a local store. She doesn’t tend to deliberate on these things singlehandedly, but she had to here.  
Her eyes are pulled upwards, to the night sky. One of those remote blinkers is where she was not too long ago, in the mayhem that is Corellia. The war likely rages there still, with the imps and reps battering it out.

Overcoming Tormen was an adrenaline high she’s not experienced in a multitude of months. His high-and-mighty attitude, his reputation, his goals, what he made her do…it felt good to put him down. Noble, yet exhilarating; what honor in battle is all about.  
Jun Seros, though? Revenge notwithstanding, his death didn’t grant her the satisfaction and placation she sought. She had figured she could mortify him, sway him to get sanity in his dumb persistence and facing the wrong woman for so many months. But…he never did. His conviction, his righteousness, his accusations of injustice on her – they never ceased. He was disappointed in his loss, but sold on the truth of his words. And what he said…

Was he in the right? Has she genuinely abided by the winds and currents of honor, or did she merely sell them out, devolve into another imperial lackey, a Sith slave that did his bidding? What she perpetrated, the lives she destroyed, it…reeks that way. He is a pile of dust now, but does it make up for her misbehavior? Not everyone would agree.  
In fact, Jov herself is somewhat lost. She has claimed autonomy again, free from her hunters thanks to the Supreme Chancellor, but she doesn’t get the vibe that her heart is lighter, no alleviation.

Jov is a bounty hunter, and she was never fond of war. Hunts are tempting, suspenseful, all but intoxicating, laden with challenge and the tests of life. War is…a blur.  
_“There will come a day when you lament that you volunteered for them. They care nothing for the lives of others, least of all outsiders like you and the mandalorians.”_

Damn Jedi. They make a practice of botching things up, as much mentally as tangibly. Her interactions with their Order are what set her world in such a jigsaw of an arrangement.  
Perhaps this isn’t the ideal development for her at this point in time. It’s realistic that this has taken a major toll out of her and she is stuck with snagging a holiday. She ought to bug out of this neighborhood of the galaxy, search for a disconnected region, be with her girlfriend for a few weeks or get onto a hunt with her clan. Either of these commonly raises her spirits.

It’s when she relaxes, sensing how her muscles unwind and she reclines into a wall, grabbing a swig of her drink and staring out at the fields as the stars twinkle overhead, that everything is jerked around. Jolting her chest and skull, her sixth sense for perils kicks into gear and blares within her that there’s something abject in the environment and it’s closing up on her discretely. It’s not fully clear where she’s deriving this from, but her gut is telling her its upwards, at the roof. Someone is poised for an aerial strike, unless she upstages them.

In her shock to extricate herself, Jov leaps forward. She’s dressed in her beskar, so she’s not utterly flummoxed, but her body is not moderated into a combat mode, meaning it’s quite stiff.  
But her intellect makes a safe bet, for the spot where she last rested on is slashed by the plasma fire of a green lightsaber, which scratches the plating of the house, carving some of it apart. Jov dashes forward to reap some protection in between herself and this unknown assailant. She did note the weapon in use, but what does this intimate? Did the Jedi track and hawk her across the galaxy? Jov took it that Mako had fixed so this wouldn’t ensue.

In her dismay to sober up and fetch her revolvers, she barely even wrenches them from their holsters, before she’s plowed into by a wave of the Force, which throws her off her feet.  
She recovers some of her balance in this momentum, though, and rolls, to once more settle on her boots. Then, she lifts her eyes in conjunction with her guns.

The former are magnified in unabated disbelief and revelation however, when she lays her sight on the brown-robed woman which glares at her with the rage of a rancor. The woman whose gaze stabs into her forms a countenance she’s conversant with, though the bristling twist of it at this moment is one that’s beyond her.  
During their previous three encounters on varying planets, she had exhibited emotions which eclipse the central mass of her Order, and Jov had traced profound relief, bitterness, crankiness, terror, concern, anxiety and more – moods which the Jedi are implied to not have access to. But this here and now is…greater than anything she’s seen; or worse, rooted in one’s position. For Jov, it would be quite categorically lousy indeed, since this incensed storm is trending straight at her.

“You…”, says the twi’lek.

“…Elu’ravi? How’d you-“

And then her voice inflates into a howl.  
“…MURDERER!”

Jov is borderline floored by the outrage meted out at her. It’s not defined by the reaction itself, for Jov had seen this a mile off, but the surreal context of this is that Jov can all but feel a pulse of fury inundating her from the Jedi.  
Her lightsaber gleams and there’s a severity to it that Jov believes she can discern a hunger from, which she wouldn’t count on from a mere weapon. But this is a lightsaber, after all. The Jedi and Sith wield…quirky stuff.

Elu then actively charges into the sky, at Jov. She hoists her lightsaber above and upon attaining close range, she pummels Jov’s position with her blade. There’s no wavering, no measuring of her engagement. She’s out for blood.  
The hunter has dueled with her before, but in this occasion, there is something dissimilar, something…inconsistent with the twi’lek which she could previously foresee.

As Jov ignites her rocket boots to burst backwards by a meter, Elu grits her teeth and then harries her, continuing with a slash, and then another, and another. Jov dodges each, though it’s immensely thin.  
To the mandalorian, who’s personally versed in this exact behavior a couple of times, it stands out like Elu is running on pure instinct and ravenous anger alone.  
“Elu’ravi! Stop!”

The hunter attempts, though she’s forced to duck and throw herself away from an additional couple of hits. The lightsaber even grazes her armor; thank the stars it’s beskar.  
Jov has no desire to hurt Elu’ravi when stripped of a cause for this ripple of frantic temper, but she can’t stay here and circumvent the violence forever. Beskar is resilient, not invincible. She throws her vibroblade into the mix and tackles a couple of blows from the lightsaber, but it’s not without issues. She’s good with a blade, but she’s no Jedi.

“Jedi, for fuck’s sake! What’re you doing?!”

Elu batters her some more, her whole body presenting like it’s shaking from the rampant bursting of her feelings.  
“You…LIAR!”, she shouts as she hops up and rotates, to bash Jov from above. She’s a formidable combatant, the hunter can’t contest that, but this is not the way.

Unprompted, Jov’s thoughts are subverted by compounded imagery, which is projected into her mind. She doesn’t piece together how, or why, but she’s shown pictures of Jun Seros, ones she’s never witnessed previously. She observes him using what she presumes is a sparring saber, then sitting and meditating, then partaking of a meal in a chair whilst looking at her and lastly, reaching out with his hand towards her.

What is happening? Is this a Jedi trick? Is it…memories? Imprints within the cavities of Elu’s mind? How…how can Jov see any of this? It not only stumps her, but physically disturbs her movements.  
“Hey, you-…stow it! Please!”

But she doesn’t, for they just keep on coming. Or is Elu actually in control of them? Is the twi’lek even processing what it is she’s inflicting on Jov? A subconscious siege?  
Elu is giving the idea of being drastically devastated by what she has witnessed, what was ripped from her grasp and her existence. This is, if anything, what Jov can distinguish from the assault on her mind.

To have a fighting chance, she fastens her dagger onto the passage of the lightsaber and at irregular intervals injecting one of her guns to unload a few rounds, to ideally keep the Jedi at bay.  
But Elu’s head is undoubtedly going haywire and Jun’s visions redouble their efforts, now weaving in audio as well, in amidst the images, as the reminiscence resumes.  
_“Control your emotions. Remember the Code.”_  
_“You will be a fine Jedi one day.”_  
_“There is but one recourse for the galaxy’s freedom, Elu’ravi. The Empire cannot triumph.”_  
_“I’ve met…complications. A reckless criminal is setting the galaxy ablaze. She must be stopped.”_

Further windows into her psyche, nooks and clefts of her dreams, the cracks of her thought process, as it crumbles beneath the encumbrance of fate’s dread. There pops up excess ones of him drawing breath, which is then interspersed with another, toweringly harrowing image – Elu watching and collapsing at the side of Jun’s fallen, torn body.  
Was this what the Jedi Master pointed to, when he expressed the truth that Jov’s crimes would catch up to her? No. Impossible. He couldn’t have scheduled this somehow, to forecast that this…

Jov requires distance; physically and mentally. Elu radiates of such searing temper that there’s no way she’ll consider talking this out, if Jov doesn’t thrust in on her, and hard at that.  
After propelling herself away, she sends a hail of bolts onto the Jedi, which Elu expertly redirects, but it’s only so that Jov can toss a stun grenade to the floor, fly away and then blast it. At last, Elu retreats a few meters.

The mandalorian catches herself out of breath, weathered by the hailstorm she stood her ground against. It’s not on a regular basis that anyone saps her like this, nor does she justify the spirit. As she nudges her head up, being game to spit fire and ride Elu’s ass for this recklessness, her mental thrusters malfunction as her eyes tap the twi’lek – there are tears gliding down Elu’s cheeks.  
“Jedi…talk to me. Why are you doing this?”

Patently, the very question stuns and offends Elu.  
“Why? You _dare_ ask me _why_, you worthless scum?! You _killed_ my master!”

Well, that’s spelled out, then. Although she knew it in her heart that this was to be the true colors of this travesty.  
“I…I didn’t-…he tried to kill me first!”

“He endeavored to draw a line to your violations! And you…I can’t believe I trusted you on Belsavis…that I thought you were being straight with me this whole time…” She looks absent for a moment, heartbroken. This is then replaced with hatred.  
“He was right about you.”

“What? Jedi, I wasn’t lying to you! I was gonna let this go, but he contracted other guilds and orders to pursue me! They came after my friends! They tried to kidnap my crew!”  
Technically, Jov has no evidence that Jun was the one to assign the GenoHaradan to grab Torian, but she partially blames him for the result. Though, perhaps the same could be alluded to with her and her crimes…

Regrettably, this uncertainty in her seeps through to Elu, who can taste the break in her lines.  
“You’re deceiving me again, hunter. My master would never commit such acts.”

And now, it’s Jov’s turn to be indignant, to a limited degree.  
“Oh yeah? You missed the entire prelude to this fucking shitshow then? Like, did it absolutely slip past ya that he ordered an insane and ruthless ambush on the previous Grand Champions – my allies – where his squad had full fucking authorization to _murder_ them if they resisted? And done while they were in a party getup as well. It was pure stars-damned assassination. Is that rotten shit in the Jedi code too, or was that exclusively his garbage?”

However, she is not roped in, her teeth kept gritted.  
“They were killers, murderers like you. They could not be relied on to surrender. Their termination merely authenticates this assessment.”

“What? Elu, you-“ She squeezes her guns, but Jov keeps herself in check. Whatever this reflex is, it has to be rooted in the sensibilities of Jun’s death; least if these pictures in her head is anything to go by.  
“That’s him talking, not you. You’ve got more sense than he did.”

Professedly, this was the incorrect stance to take, as Elu’s expression darkens once more.  
“You will regret your nerve, hunter, for insulting my master.”

“You call me a killer, but he did his share of killing for this too! Don’t lay it all on me, Jedi.”

Though she does not whimper or choke up, the tears from Elu’s eyes keep flowing, fueling her vehemence.  
“You…MONSTER!”

She shouts it and the sound echoes, wreaking tremors in the air. It is so hardy and aggressive, in fact, that her scream materializes and is incarnated in the Force, which blasts Jov with a pulse, shooting torment right into her skull and ears, as if she was clocked by an actual fist of steel.  
Jov wasn’t even aware that Jedi could form an attack on the senses like this and she’s beset by a ringing in her ears that blisters unlike any thunderous racket she’s ever heard.

In the meantime, Elu lunges into her, the fervent edge of the lightsaber chasing any flesh that it can acquire on the mandalorian, though she is cradled by her armor.  
In a bid to save herself, Jov activates her jetpack, hoping she’ll rocket out of reach, but Elu is not done with her.  
“Oh no, you don’t”, she cries after her.

While Jov cracks her eyes open, blocked by the dampness which naturally builds inside of them in light of the pain, her mindset is soundly jolted by the fact that she’s soon magically diverted. Her one-way flight takes a turn in midair, as Elu’s Force abilities yanks her to the right, and the Champion collides with one of the walls instead, creating a dent and cracks in it, before she has to deactivate the pack and dive back down.

Descending to the ground, Jov groans unpleasantly when she slams into the pavement, impulsively clutching her gut despite the armor being a hurdle and the act doing nothing to unburden the ailing.  
Elu looms onto her from across the street, now striding at a patient pace.  
“Thought you had escaped, mandalorian? There is none for you. Justice is coming, at long last.”

Jov clenches her jaw and presses an arm into the earth to rise somewhat, or at least bend herself up by a nudge.  
“Justice?”, she asks, her pitch now mildly marred and raspy. “Funny…I figured justice wouldn’t be so painted with a red brush.”

“Had you heeded my master long ago, none of this would’ve been prescribed on you. But you called for blood.”

“I’m a mandalorian…defending me and mine…is the backbone of our faith.”

“Then _stand up_ and deliver me this battle, mando.”

Jov scrambles herself up and climbs to her feet via an outcropping that she clutches and pulls at. She’s increasingly depleted and she doesn’t fancy going head-to-head with this lady, but what else can she do?  
“How’d you even find me?”

“I’ve stalked your ship residue since Corellia, with minor contributions from the SIS. You can’t weasel yourself away from me, Champion. Not in this instant.”

Elu digs her foot into the asphalt to cast herself into Jov, navigating her lightsaber into a sideways horizontal swipe. This is a stark contrast from their duel on Nar Shaddaa, due to Jov detecting Elu’s bloodlust today head-on.  
If she is to win without burying either of them, she has to keep her head on a swivel and hold an eye out, in case Elu beefs it. Sooner or later, she’ll do so.

Jov is also conscious of that Elu can preserve herself from a number of the hunter’s advances, which potentially can facilitate a distraction of some variety.  
She rears her left wrist and unleashes a vapor of fire at the Jedi, who resorts to the Force in order to chase off the flames’ starving teeth. Although, she can’t remain this way for an eternity and thus retrocedes.

This is a ticket to Jov’s salvation. She mounts up her left arm and launches the ancillary module on it, a grapple hook, which she shoots up at one of the posts on a two-story building. She then reels it in, which catapults her up to it. This way, Elu’s abilities are ineffectual…until she vaults after the hunter.  
Jov’s tactical outlook was on point, on account of Elu taking flight with the Force’s aid. She enacts it in the interstice of two buildings and skips from one to the other, until she’s up there with the mandalorian.

The human is standing by, her gun held up and armed, but she does not fire. She can’t mentally provoke herself to go about it, no matter the leverage it grants her. Thus, Elu arrives on her own seat up here, spinning her double-edged lightsaber in a relaxed manner within the middle of her fingers, vision homed in on her target and sworn enemy.  
“Don’t make me do this.”

“Mean to slaughter me, in line with how you _slaughtered_ master Seros?”

Jov closes her eyes and air trickles from her lips.  
“I didn’t-…we fought fair and square!”

“You swore to me that you would try. That you wouldn’t go after him.”

“I had no choice! You promised me you’d call him off, but he wouldn’t! It was him or me.”

“There is never not a choice. You’ll pay for this!”

She straps herself onto Jov’s direction, and hops at the human, with the lightsaber tip at the forefront. Jov puts her mind into dampening her pace, through blasting the twi’lek in a straight line. But her profit from this is minimal, as a result of her reluctance to damage Elu. Each shot is too comfortable and rough to really impact the Jedi in any key bodily compartments. She has to dig in hard and unpityingly if she is to get fruitful results.

On the back of this paltry spectacle, Elu exploits Jov’s transitional weakness to unsettle her. She lays into the hunter with an assortment of slashes, that she can only loosely parry with her blade. The further the fight prolongs, the more intense the twi’lek’s swings and cuts become. Jov has only ever witnessed such rage behind melee poundings by Sith. This is not the Elu she’s identified with earlier, not the treatment born of a Jedi.

Upon uncoupling her from safety, Elu’s blade beams with a crepitating sparkle and as she slams it onto the roof, an explosion of Force energy hammers into Jov’s chest. She’s flung off the top and downwards once more, several meters to the ground where she barrels into it, leading with her back. Even if it’s shielded by the shell of the armor, the flight triggers a surge of agony within the mandalorian’s insides and she shouts in pain.

Elu proceeds over the edge, but she moderates her fall by grabbing onto a pipe fastened to the side of the house with one hand and slips all the way to the ground by it. She then cracks on with her approach to Jov.  
“What’s wrong, mandalorian? I was under the impression that war is your field, where your people declare that you thrive. And still, you’re outmatched.”

Even her voice is whetted, programmed for carnage. Jov’s brain is divided on where to take this. One half is barking at her to scuffle, to nail this Jedi to the floor, roughly what she did to Seros. The other – the glaring ceiling of her morality – contends that she can’t abandon her principles, whatever happens.  
With a frayed gasp and a hand to the pavement to pull herself up, Jov pushes through the turmoil.  
“I…don’t fight those who don’t deserve it. No honor in that.”

“Suit yourself. More for me.”  
The hunter bounds to her feet, solely to be knocked off them anew, when Elu bears a blast of Force potency into her chest, and the momentum causes her to groan and plummet to her knees.  
“You’re pathetic. How did you ever best us?”

It’s telling that Elu is not herself, and she’s consumed by her grief, the hatred she’s structured it into and aligned at Jov. Perhaps this is the premise she should try. Whether it’ll turn this ship around is inconclusive, but she doesn’t have anything else, excluding a match to the death.  
“Elu’ravi…this isn’t you”, she states, the panting hanging onto her. “You’re not like this. You’re not the vendetta type. I can’t clash with someone who’s lost her path.”

Elu’s brow sinks into a scowl and she presses her hand along the hilt of her armament.  
“You’re wrong. I’m an advocate of fairness in life, and the need to even the score. Right now, it’s very much lopsided. Your death will level it out.”

Jov shakes her head with an undertone of emphasis.  
“No. You’re a Jedi. I’ve heard and seen enough of your sort to be on the ball that this ain’t what you guys do. Won’t make a show of that I can recite it or anything, but this isn’t on the list of your Code, is it? You’re not supposed to be sentimental or…something like that. At least use your head.”

Her suggestions, practically an assertion in Elu’s ear cones, grates within her. Her facial features tighten and by the look of how her breathing accelerates, Jov has upset her.  
“You-…shut up!” She bellows and stomps forward, laying one hand at her side. “What does a mandalorian know of Jedi, of compassion!?”

“Nothing that would make it work, but…more than you figure.”

Practically growling at the hunter, Elu discharges another Force burst, this one into Jov’s belly, which sends her flying into the wall and upon contact, it carries such impetus that she slams the back of her head into the concrete.  
With her skull reeling, her sight is rendered blurry yet again and she finds it tough to stay standing, or grasp her weapons. By resting her back into it, she at least clings to an upright posture.

For all intents and purposes here, she’s at Elu’s mercy. Because she has abstained from retaliating, Jov has put herself in a bind and maintaining her defensive may now be unachievable. She knows this, Elu knows this.  
But for all her folly and weaknesses, Jov does not beg for leniency. She does not get on her knees, or fire at the twi’lek with all the resentment of her people’s history. Instead, Jov stares at Elu, in defiance, but passively. It’s like she’s…awaiting something. A piece of the puzzle which Elu infuriatingly cannot enumerate, somehow.

The lens funneled at her from Jov incenses Elu, as if she’s attempting to stare Elu down, apart from who she’s growing into. The gall…the hubris of this woman.  
“You…know…NOTHING! You _are_ nothing but a Jedi-killing _scum_! I won’t stand here and let you think you can lecture me, you despicable piece of filth!”

And that’s when Elu’s darkness manifests in earnest. The festering furor steeps her veins and her subconscious initiative takes charge, commanding her with solely one thing – kill this wretch.  
And then, to Jov’s shock, she feels how the air flow in her throat is interrupted, as if a vent that was once active is now shut down, just like that, and she’s left impoverished. Directing her eyes at the twi’lek, she spies how Elu’s fingers have curved into a closed fist, one that is so taut that it might sprain a muscle. She’s repurposing the Force to choke the life out of the mandalorian.

“Elu…please…” she groans, but it’s hardly more than a murmur. Elu is deftly and effectively squeezing every air particle out from within her, and for each second that passes, her hold thickens.

Internally, the Jedi admits to herself that she enjoys this. It’s a sight for sore eyes to witness this mandalorian pest be grinded down and bled into nonexistence. It serves her right, for a Jedi to close the books on her consciousness. For too long, she’s sprouted, been tempered into who she is, for no one could forestall it. She was the ultimate, impossibly strong opponent in a nutshell, which would only stir more bloodshed.  
Elu bought into it too, that this was the imperfect, divergent route, which could purely conclude with sorrow and defilement, unless they could derive peace from somewhere. But now she sees clearly. Her mind is lucid, her lungs are thick with objectivity. This was always the road to salvation. If this one gnat can be squashed, the Jedi will be cleansed. This is what the Force sought to relay to her, wasn’t it? Must be.

With Jov immersed in a hellish scene, she doesn’t fetch much hope for the future. She drove herself into this situation. Jun said it best, and chances are that he had clarity the entire time.  
But that’s as may be, can she well and truly cave in here? Not if there’s a sliver of a chance.  
“Jedi…listen to me…”, she states through half-gritted teeth, trying to push the words out of her mouth, regardless of how her lungs protest. “I…I was wrong. Jun had me, and I…acted on instinct…and brittle pride. But this isn’t…what he’d want. This isn’t…you. You’re…a Jedi. Don’t…don’t become…like them…”

Elu overhears all syllables and words, the works, but she has no clue what the hunter is indicating. Become like who? Who does this mandalorian think she is by-

And then somehow, she’s struck by the revelation, while simultaneously her master’s echo shudders in her skull, shot from somewhere which is not within, yet hits her with parity.  
_“A Jedi’s lone cause is defending the innocent. Only raise your hand for a purpose you believe in. Not for power, not for money, not for vengeance. If we do not abide by the Code, we lose our way. By that point, you’ve bowed to the dark side.”_

Balking like she’s ripped open by a lightning strike, Elu gasps, sheds her grasp on Jov’s throat, recedes and stumbles backwards. It’s so visceral that she falls to her rear. Whereas Jov has collapsed to the pavement, clawing and exerting herself desperately for air, Elu’s panting is in the perimeter of unadulterated surprise, and maybe more prudent, repulsion with herself.  
Was she just…verging on executing another person, with the oppressive might of the Force? The quenching cruelty of the dark side? She has never touched it up to now, but…

Out of nowhere, it’s equal to waking up from a nightmare, where her hands are actually shaking, her lekku wriggling in discomfort and her body is next to burning. She tosses her sight towards Jov, who’s there on the ground, giving it her all to return to a semblance of normality, now that her life has been assured.  
Their eyes meet for no more than three seconds, stark yellow into vivid blue. The yellow, for some unfathomable and horrifying intent, looks at the blue with compassion and concern. After what the twi’lek did, how could she…?

Losing her nerve, Elu jumps up, turns on her heel and sprints away. She almost loses her balance at one point, but preserves her stance by clasping a wall.  
Jov rests one hand at her own throat to rub it, extending the other haplessly out after the twi’lek.  
“Elu’ravi…”


	6. A vestige of hope

Harmony. It had been lost to her for the last multiple weeks. She had dug around, thirsted for it in many respects, but it had shown every sign of being out of reach. Was that why she returned to the source, to the halls where they once upon a time had walked the same floors, sensed the same wind in the air and payed heed to the wail of the stars?

When Elu’ravi had dedicated a few years to the role of master Jun Seros’ padawan, she had ultimately been transferred from the joint rooms and beds of the initiates and into her own set of quarters in the Jedi Temple. It wasn’t much, as the Temple had originally been assembled to accommodate quantities of Jedi that they had hoped would regrow, as opposed to being a political or technological center.

Her space is akin to rectangular-shaped box, with the roof and floor colored in a tawny brown and the walls made in beige. A small oval lamp is tied to the ceiling and one on the wall. In magnitude and space, it’s a bit longer than it is wide, and there isn’t an abundance of room to wander, but there’s a minimum of few meter on each scale. Sufficient to keep a handful of people inside, should it be a requisite. A one-person bed with clean green sheets is attached to the left wall from the perspective of the entrance, and a minimal chest of drawers in the far right corner for clothes and some items. Well above that isn’t warranted.  
That said, some in the Order are keen on accessorizing. Elu has tried not to overcommit, on her former master’s recommendation, but she has planted a number of holo devices, photos of friends and colleagues, devices and souvenirs attained on her travels, even a set of tools.

Elu is on the floor, which holds a soft blue carpet, with her legs folded. She’s dressed in her normal brown robes; casual and comfy, which is what she’s after right now. Her lekku are crossed on her back, as she’s modestly tilted forward, her gaze set on a bauble in her hands which she grasps with three fingers, doing little else than periodically spinning it.  
It’s posed as a triangular crystalline article, no longer than a plum. The wholly see-through capacity of it exposes the further critical object that it contains – a cracked and rough charcoal-grey-tinted stone-style scrap of something. At the tip of the triangle is a tiny ring with a cloth band injected, to be borne as a necklace, though Elu is not engaging it as this at the moment.

Her blue eyes are trained on the interior piece, her shoulders are noticeably slumped, and there’s a gloom weighing her down with uncontestable might that she can’t and won’t resist. Her thoughts are roamed by the procedurally degrading conception of her master’s serene features. Not smiling, of course, as that was seldom one of his habits, but his expression would often soften.  
_“This is for you. Hold on to it, for however long you can. A fraction of me lingers within, and in time, you will bestow it the same, which is when you can grant it to your padawans. The memory will stay.”_

She clutches the triangle a bit firmer, but she can’t perceive what her emotions are conveying in this second. Grief? Loss? Havoc? She sure feels addlebrained at any rate.  
It’s in this self-contained process that she hears a few raps on her door. Who could that be? She’s mindful of that some spotted her entering, but no one that she’s intimately familiar with.  
“Erm, enter.”  
A switch is flicked outside, and the automated door glides open to unveil the alternate sight of an older fair-skinned human, but this one a woman. Her grey-brown hair is tied into two short braids that hang on either end of her head, and her wise blue eyes float fleetingly along the length of the room, until they lock with Elu’s.  
“Grand Master Satele…”, the twi’lek utters softly.

There’s a tentative display of trepidation on the countenance of the first of the Jedi, which foregoes a subtle nod.  
“Elu’ravi. I thought I had sensed your presence, but I couldn’t verify it without coming here. I’m pleased you reverted to the temple once more.”

With some pause, Elu replies plainly.  
“It’s nice to be back.”

“People have been awfully concerned for you. I would count myself among them. We’ve been probing the galaxy, but it was easier said than done.”

“Mm, I can imagine.”

Likely not the reflex Satele would’ve called upon, but she proceeds.  
“Where did you go off to? The most recent news we were fed was of your involvement in the battle of Corellia. There was a report that you trailed off and then nothing for weeks. I feared that you were captured by the Empire or…worse. Your absence in the Force alone dilated this belief.”

This makes Elu lose some steam, as she views the trinket in her fingers. Takes her a few seconds to reintegrate it.  
“I’ve been…preoccupied. I was required to…piece myself back together.”

Satele takes a moment to consider this statement, prior to looking over her shoulder and then resumes her priority of the Knight.  
“May I come in?”

“What? Oh, yes. Always, master.”

The human inclines her head, crosses the threshold and then is certain of that the door shuts before she gravitates towards the twi’lek with careful, subdued steps.  
“I know about master Seros’ death. I’m…I’m sorry it led to this, that we could not be more proactive. It was a great loss and we are all lesser for his passing.”  
Elu moderately bends her neck downwards, but there’s a prominent cloud of misery draping across her demeanor. It’s written all over her face how his death has impacted her.  
“You mustn’t let this act crush you. He is one with the Force now, where he can grasp true peace.”

“I’m conscious of this, but…it doesn’t lighten the pain”, she says, her voice ringing of exactly this sentiment.

“Yes, I know this concept as well. Overfamiliar with it even, one might say.” She then strides up to Elu and lodges herself next to the twi’lek on the floor. She studies Elu’s character for a moment and then glimpses the triangle.  
“What is it you’re holding? Is that a crystal? I can’t detect Force energy from it.”

“Well, not quite.” Elu props and serves it up to the Grand Master. “It’s a condensed fragment of transparisteel, cradling a still tinier piece of concrete.”

“Concrete? The material?”

“Uh-huh. It’s…detritus from a structure on Rralyenka.”

It then dawns on Satele, which her face more than portrays.  
“Where Jun was born…”

“Right. His hometown was…glassed by imperial bombardment in the midst of the last war. He had already been recruited by the Jedi ahead of this event, but…”

“He sought some…remnant, I suppose.”

“Yeah. He visited and passed above the ruins, wishing that he could cope with the demolishment and deaths. He secured some of the wreckage in a bag upon his final trip. After this, when he set on the path of becoming a master to padawans, he gifted a piece of this preserved substance in transparisteel to every student he taught.” She squeezes the triangle softly, eyes narrowing faintly.  
“He related to us that this was…a trace of him. His Force edge, his…soul was instilled in it. Carrying this would reflect that our bond could strengthen and mature, and I – as well as his other students – would gain perspective of his trial.  
I stashed it here years in the past. I felt privileged to receive such an offering, but at the end of the day, I didn’t put a lot of thought into it. Material possessions were…frivolous, or so I was taught. Recently, though, I conjured up the image of it and…it crossed my mind that this could benefit me…somehow. I couldn’t determine how, but it didn’t matter. It was symbolic.”

Satele lends her ear patiently and silently, her hands on her lap for a solid minute. Jun’s words are repeated in Elu’s heart.  
_“Everything you do, everything you are, is imprinted into your spirit. When it is shared with another via the Force, the memories are inherited.”_

Following an unspecified amount of seconds, the Grand Master speaks.  
“You know, it gives me reminders of your Knight promotion ceremony.”  
Elu isn’t overly stunned by this, recalling that Satele wasn’t just present – she presided over it, as the Grand Master.  
“While Jun did not remark on it up front at the event, I could glimpse unspoken perspectives on him – he was proud. Unbelievably so. You grew into the rank of a Knight quite handily. Not the speediest of all, but with decent progress all the same. Plus, you acquired contacts and resources within the SIS, which few accomplish. He had every right to be content with you.”

Elu’s lips form a faint smile, but they do wobble a modicum at that, as sorrow is interlocked with it. She doesn’t say it, nor does Satele, but she misses him. The Grand Master comprehends her inexplicit conduct and in lieu of anything luxurious, she merely lays her hand on the Knight’s shoulder, squeezing it with care and tenderness. To reciprocate, Elu caps it with her own.

In this muffled environment, Elu’s thoughts are filled instead by Jun’s voice.  
_“Though we are bound by impassiveness and tranquility, there is nothing stopping us from sympathy and familiarity with the difficulty of life’s situations for others. We must serve it, to aid them.”_

Subsequent to a minute, Satele opens her mouth again.  
“I could…feel your fluctuating essence after his demise. How it vacillated and shivered.”

Elu is moderately shaken up by this.  
“You…you could?”

“Yes. I received your gut reaction, the…sensitivity that sprung to the surface. The anger, the heartbreak…the darkness.”  
The twi’lek nibbles at her lower lip and diverts her gaze. She remains with her lips partially sealed and Satele rolls her hand down onto Elu’s arm.  
“It’s okay. It’s entirely normal to respond as such. It’s all but impossible to turn a blind eye to the emotions. This is a natural facet of living, and challenging to cut off completely when someone in one’s vicinity is lost. But you should keep an inch of pride in your heart. That you stayed sane, that you controlled the intensity and wasn’t provoked, to eventually return here, is a vital lesson of-“

“Master”, Elu intervenes, “I…I broke the Code.”

Satele powers her support and elaboration down for a second, and winds up a bit pensive.  
“Broke it?”

“…yeah.”

“How, exactly?”

Elu plugs her eyes shut and inhales unsteadily, then exhales.  
“I…let my temper flare, and erupted in fire. I only saw red and…assaulted someone.”

“I see. Was it anyone that-“

“It was his killer. The woman who has already vied with a number of his other agents.”

Satele blows out air in a mildly spent way, and gathers her thoughts on the issue.  
“If I recall correctly, I’ve heard of this woman. Jovana Vlasic, a mandalorian. The one who infiltrated the Aurora and killed master Kellian Jarro.”

“That’s…that’s right. And later, his padawan. And after that, Adeline Marr, another Jedi Knight.”

A solemn face comes over Satele, as she factors in additional complications.  
“I’m aware that…the former Supreme Chancellor Janarus has pardoned and immunized her from all continued Republic actions. She…allegedly took down Darth Tormen, on the Chancellor’s request.”

“Uh, yeah. I heard that too. Kinda hard to ignore it, particularly if you…were searching for info on her whereabouts.”

Satele’s expression depicts that she’s in two minds as to Elu’s claims and insinuations up to this point.  
“I haven’t gathered much on this mandalorian since Corellia. Did you…?”

But the twi’lek’s head shakes, vaguely.  
“No, I didn’t…end her. The two of us did come to blows, but I couldn’t…go the whole way. However, it’s not unthinkable that I could’ve…”

The sentence is lost, and Elu deflates, closing her eyes and clutching the triangle harder. Seros’ voice echoes once more.  
_“Only raise your hand for a purpose you believe in. Not for power, not for money, not for vengeance.”_

She then verbalizes once more.  
“Jovana refused to retaliate.”

“Refused?”

“Mm. I…I was the aggressor. I attacked, but she stayed on the defensive nearly the entire time, barring once or twice where she had to chase me off. She never…sincerely struck back.”

“Hmm. That is peculiar indeed. Mandalorians don’t tend to be so…restrained. Did you ever find out why?”

Elu lowers her head in a testament to her shame, which is amplified by the twitching of her lekku in discomfort.  
“I strove for justice after master Seros’ death. I was so furious, so…hateful of her. These emotions, these outbreaks, are ones I’ve never before perceived this vehemently. I can’t be a 100% sure, but I believe it was built upon a foundation of betrayal.”

“What betrayal?”

“Vlasic and I, we…we’ve met previously, on other planets. It’s mainly been circumstantial, but…”

Satele dips her head mildly.  
“It rings a bell. Did you not collaborate on Belsavis? The SIS passed along a report of this nature.”

“Yes, it’s all true. In the prisons of Belsavis, I discussed and made a deal with the Champion. I negotiated and made her promise to try and steer clear of master Seros in the future. It’s…beyond any doubt that it didn’t pan out. The reasons for this were numerous, but in retrospect, could it ever have borne fruit? Probably doubtful to be that optimistic.  
I had such an urge to kill her, it was…so bad. I dreamt of hurting her, watching her be humiliated, tearing the skin off her body, flaying her alive…”  
Elu’s head sinks into her hands, mortified.  
“…master, I…she wouldn’t counterattack because she argued I’d lost my way. And…I proved her right. I tried to slay her…with the Force. I aspired to extinguish her completely.”

These words sound awfully dire and cold in Elu’s ear cones. She hadn’t deemed them that way back then, but now with clarity of thought…  
Satele retains her pondering outlook, not angry or perturbed, just evaluating.  
“But you didn’t.”

“No, I-…she-…I somehow heard master Seros’ voice in my mind. He…” She takes a deep breath. “I ran.”

Satele’s hand caresses her arm warmly, supportively.  
“You did the right thing. Vengeance isn’t the Jedi path.”

“I know…which is somewhat the cause for my actions of late. It’s why I avoided the Temple for weeks, hoping and trying to…rediscover myself.”

Satele sighs, a shadow of conflict hover over her.  
“Your reaction was sound, though I wish that you would’ve come home sooner, so that we could’ve deliberated on this.”

Elu rubs her hands over her temples.  
“What am I to do, master? She has killed more than a few Jedi at this rate. Even if she did not hunt Jarro out of her own accord, the fact remains that she was the one to take his life. Same with master Seros.”

The human tilts her head from side to side indecisively.  
“There’s no denying that. It’s a real sticking point, as Jedi and mandalorians, well…we’ve collided for so long.”

“Indeed, we have”, says Elu. But a few seconds down the line, she toys with this notion. “The mandalorians – a warrior culture, friends of the Empire, bounty hunters and soldiers. Master Shan, what do you know of them?”

“Well, to be fair, my facts aren’t far beyond what we’ve stored in our archives and datalogs, which I’ve skimmed once or twice. You’re bound to have heard or read this too, correct? Presumably in one of master Gnost-Dural’s lessons.”

“Yeah, I can retrace some of them, but I figured I’d ask anyhow.”

“The mandalorians are to some extent the antithesis of the Jedi, reminiscent of the Sith, but in a dissimilar manner. They make every effort to find combat and conquest. Hunting and warring are in their nature, in order to excel and grow. Life to them is only precious when it is tested in the crucible of battle and unrestrained mayhem.”

“Hmm. Well, unless my recollection of master Gnost-Dural’s lessons is off base, they treasure more than fighting, right?”

Following a brief postponement, Satele nods.  
“That’s right, they do, though it’s not always easy to distinguish. It’s all included in their…creed. Their tenets for life – family, defense, language. But this is blended with combat, armor and serving their warlord, Mandalore. For thousands of years, the Jedi and mandalorians have gone toe-to-toe, which is outperformed merely by our feud with the Sith. I recognize their resourcefulness and aptitude in battle, their resolve and undeterred focus, but they’re also tremendously deadly and too hasty to crave revenge. This could never jibe with us.”

“But haven’t they taken the Republic’s side once?”

Satele ends up in a state of flux then, the unrest of the past.  
“Yes…once. In the aftermath of the Mandalorian Wars, although this is said to have been predicated on that the Mandalore who ruled them in that age was allied and loyal to a former Jedi and former Sith, known as Revan.”

Elu guides her gaze to the Grand Master, recalling this title from her lessons too.  
“Your ancestor.”

The human is slightly fazed by this, though it’s hard to say why.  
“…yes. She and…Bastila Shan, but they both left the Order decades prior to their natural deaths. Succeeding generations of mandalorians have reverted to hostility, perhaps due to a grudge.”

The Knight’s eyes flit left and right, and she contemplates out loud.  
“Could this by any chance be related to why she and master Seros had such a coarse friction? Why they had to butt heads?”

“I don’t possess all the answers, but I don’t find it hard to believe. It goes without saying that she was out for revenge with Jun, for what he did to her allies.”

“But that’s not the sole point of contention. I think his efforts in all probability fell prey to a similar fault. I…disregarded this for the longest time, but relatively speaking, he equally wronged her. That’s what led them down this path from the very onset. Not that master Seros was acting unlawfully, by Republic code, but in a way that did provoke the mandalorian urge for blood feuds. He didn’t see that, he only parsed the concept of justice. She was a criminal in his eyes and one who has broken the law must be made an example of – that’s often been his prerogative.”

Satele tries to work out which one she means and then comes upon it.  
“You’re talking about his…methods for eliminating these other ‘Grand Champions’ of the Great Hunt?”

“Yes. I believe she wasn’t offended by their deaths alone, but that their ends were not…honorable. Uh, the mandalorian school of honor, anyway.”

“It’s accurate that these people were taken out by a joint Jedi and Republic strike force, but according to his report, they were left with little choice.”

“I agree, but there were more components at play. The Champions were not at their best in this affair. They were at a disadvantage, practically disempowered – no real weapons in their hands or armors on their bodies. Previously, I didn’t give it much thought, but now that I survey the situation from the outside, it can’t have been so straightforward that they didn’t capitulate in the heat of battle…”

Elu clutches the necklace in her hand, brushing it with the tip of her thumb, as she ruminates on the meaning of this object, and the foibles of her master. One of his many wisdoms floats inside her head once more.  
_“Yes, you’re right. The Code is flawed in places, but that is a reflection of us all. Flawlessness is not a trait that anyone possesses, not even the Jedi. But we must endeavor to achieve its promises as much as possible.”_

“Perhaps…”, Elu begins, but hesitates. “…perhaps this is an angle I must confront. The areas where my master fumbled and where I could make a difference in some way.”

Satele looks somewhat daunted by this suggestion.  
“You can’t concede to it, Elu’ravi. Didn’t we just say vengeance is not the dominion of Jedi, where we falter? It won’t do to-“

“No, that’s not what I’m emphasizing, master. Instead, I’m stating the adverse – I have to trail master Seros’ undertaking, but with a different handling of the matter, a different light. I can separate the feud from my own potential peace with her. We’ve already illustrated that we can work together. Isn’t that worth fighting for? Not to forgive her per se, but to build bridges.”

That is, if only Elu hasn’t already annihilated every window to the idea. And can she even pacify her rage upon seeing Jov again?  
Regardless, she has some pondering to do.


	7. Honor's debt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter is still before the one where Shariss is introduced to Cierah in the Price Of A Sun's Kiss. My timeline is...quite confused_

“This is a really dumb idea. You know that, right? Telling you right now that it’s gonna get us in trouble and we’re gonna sit here regretting we didn’t avert it early.”

Jovana, standing as usual in her red and white beskar armor, angles her yellow gaze to the right of the cockpit of the shuttle they’re in, where she can find the speaker of this criticism in the co-pilot seat – Mako, wearing a simple black jacket and red pants. Jovana herself is on her feet, having a hand on the back of each chair, given how minimal reach there is between them, no more than a meter or so.  
“Ah, cut that out, Mako. You know we’ve done worse.”

“Have we, though? Couple of months ago, they were the enemy. Like, we literally fought a few of ‘em off, so they wouldn’t bring us in.”

“That was then, this is now. Besides, this one never did.”

“She never had the chance. It’s different.”

“She wouldn’t have tried.”

“Show me data on that, and I _might_ entertain the idea.”

A third voice is then registered.  
“Well, you’ve never stopped being a lil’ bit nuts, Jov, but looking at the big picture, gotta hand it to Mako – this is one of your more unusual stunts.”

The Grand Champion lets her eyes then sail off to the left, the pilot seat, where she regards a third woman, but this one not being human. Instead, it’s a blue-skinned twi’lek, one of the shorter and curvier of her kind. Her tight beige pants would reveal some of this, but her upper body is embraced by a looser white shirt and brown coat with a tall collar, matching her brown eyes. The sharp black lines of her tattoos which span her lekku, neck and end on her cheeks, are ones that Jov is personally aware flows down over her body too. She and the human have been clothes-less more than once together, when they were somewhat younger, living in the disarray of Nar Shaddaa.

“I don’t care, Bery. This has gotta be done.”

Bery Eka’Shodem, former ganger who wrote her name in the stars by finding Nok Drayen’s treasures and besting the Voidwolf, peeks disbelievingly at her old friend.  
“…you’ve grown weird since you took on this whole mando business, Vlasic.”

The human’s brow sinks with a sliver of incomprehension.  
“What’d you mean? I’m like I’ve always been, and I roll with what I’ve done since long ago.”

“Not totally true. You never used to ask me to track down SIS agents for ya.”

“You never had any.”

The twi’lek opens her mouth and releases one hand from the navigational board to hold up a finger, but…no words of dissent are exuded. Then, she sighs in defeat.  
“…fair.”

The slick and slim shuttle they’re in is one that’s, all things considered, owned by Bery. Well, her latest scheme with the company that she and her partner Risha founded. As Captain Shodem is an excellent pilot – Jov might even argue she’s the number one pilot that the Champion’s ever met in the galaxy – it seemed natural that they let her fly it, when they were heading to this clandestine meeting anyhow.

The planet they’re venturing on is Nal Shaloch, another world in the Hutt Cartel’s stretch of the galaxy, though not the same system as the more infamous Hutta and its moon, Shaddaa. Thus, it’s cultivated its own local cultures and economical pursuits.  
They’re en route for one of the more spacious cities on its surface, as the contact they were soliciting a gathering with told the squad to hit her up in one of the less frequented cantinas in the lower regions. She didn’t seek to have them cloaked in too heavy flair.

Bery descends through the thick sky traffic of the city with seasoned hands, and simultaneously tosses an eye at her pal.  
“When we get there, try not to hold your hands on the guns the entire time. People get twitchy.”

“I’m not here to blast anyone, Bery.”

“You say that, but we’ve been down this road before. Remember the Karabess district job?”

“That was like nine years ago. And I got us out of it.”

The twi’lek raises her hand in a testy flip at the comment, though her eyes remain on the flight ahead.  
“Yeah, because you got us _into_ it to begin with, smartass. Vellah specifically told you not to flash your guns. You provoked ‘em.”

The Champion folds her arms and tediously rolls her eyes.  
“I did not. They were goading me.”

“Oh, I wonder why, huh? Cuz you can’t rein it in, even for just a second.”

“Don’t talk to me like you’re never trigger happy too, Shodem.”

“There’re very few common grounds in that house, Jov. Maybe you’re better now, but you did used to shoot early – in more ways than one.”

Mako, who has been listening in as she’s right there, is now oozing with uncertainty.  
“Uh…”

The mandalorian faintly shakes her head and then directs her attention unmitigatedly at the twi’lek. She plants one hand on the back of the seat and another on Bery’s chin, steering her to the right, so that they can squarely check each other out.  
“Don’t get cocky”, she states with a bit of an edge, but it comes complete with a smirk.

Bery takes the yellow eyes head on, but she sizes her old flame up in that heavy gear as well.  
“Just saying. I know all your moves.”

“Not all. Not the new ones.”

The smuggler Captain settles a hand on Jov’s belt and clutches it, to pull her closer; awfully proximate in fact, being no more than a breath away.  
“Then maybe you oughta give me a show someday.”

“If you ask nicely.”

Mako looks sideways, seeing the steaminess between those two sparking somewhat. Even after all these years, it’s yet unclear to Mako if they’re best friends or occasional lovers. Or a combination of the two.  
“Hey, girls. Let’s focus on the job for now, shall we?”

After touching down, the three ladies traverse the lower levels of the city, where they can slip through the net fairly well, seeing as how common citizens aren’t really in the know of who they are. Mako is the one to guide them to the precise destination of their journey, where they drop by a half rundown cantina, flooded with dimmed yellow and blue lights. The quality of the place is not deluxe, but all three - particularly the two slightly older women - are accustomed to it. This is the standard of living and hangouts they saw in their youths. Well, earlier youths, more like.  
It’s a pretty regular setup too, with a long base complex, a stretched-out bar and counter in the center, and then tables littered around the walls, as well as the upper level. People and species from every corner of the galaxy are customers here, though much less humans than in the Empire or Republic.

In the northeastern corner, they hunt down their point of contact – a yellow-skinned mirialan with shoulder-length brown hair, decked out in an inconspicuous red jacket with white and purple leggings. She rotates a drink in one hand, while flipping through a datapad with the other.  
As if by cue, she plops the gadget down on the table and maneuvers her eyes at them when they’re close by, with a self-secure smile on her lips.

“Well well. This is a first for me – can’t recall any day that I’ve gotten to convene with two of the galaxy’s most prominent criminals. And in one bar as well.”

Bery brandishes a smug smile.  
“Ha ha. Very funny, Kartur. Much laughter.”

The twi’lek falls in on the three-sided sofa by the wall first, Jov being next and Mako on the edge, which sets Jov as the focal point.  
“Hey, don’t gimme that”, the human protests. “Not a criminal anymore.”

Shariss flashes an expression that carries a smile, yet stays sly.  
“I stand corrected – in the Republic, at least. And from the fingers of the Supreme Chancellor and everything. Lucky shot, that.”

“Nah, no luck involved. He and I had a deal, end of story.”

“Well, my point was that you were fortunate to have even attained it in the first place. For most, it’d be wishful thinking.”

The smuggler Captain shrugs in a detached manner.  
“Eh, criminality is relative anyway. One nation’s bad guy is another’s business partner.”

The agent descends into fits of giggles.  
“Fair enough, but your bounties are likely more wide-spanning than the two factions we know and love.”

“It’s just as well that we’re a big buncha pals then, huh?”

Shariss slopes back on her edge of the sofa.  
“Tsk. It’s paying off then, exploiting both sides in this war, Captain?”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe.”

The best slicer of the four nips her own nose.  
“Almost wish we’d have thought of it first…”

Bery flexes her arms and rests them behind her head.  
“You girls just don’t have my business sense.”

Jov lays her own arms on the table.  
“That’s Risha’s dealings you’re bragging about, Shodem.”

“Hey, you wish! She’s good, but she wouldn’t be up here in the clouds without me.”

“And you’d still be no more than a half-decent smuggler without her.”

“Says the one banking on the HoloNet wiz over there.”

“’course, cuz I’m not fuckin' hiding it. Mako is beyond comparison and I tell her every time.”

"Mostly", adds the slicer.

The twi’lek puts her hands aloft in a defensive manner.  
“I ain’t denying Risha’s impact either, just that I don’t want my own range swept under the rug. It’s not like you don’t brag every now and then too, 'Champion'.”

“Well yeah, cuz I’m the real deal.”

“So am I!”

“What, the model thief?”

“Yes!  
…wait, no! I was referring to my credit-making moxie, actually. You dick.”

“You’re no Cartel bigwig.”

“Yet!”

Shariss snickers from her end of the table.  
“If you two ladies wanna get onto each other, you can make out later.”

Mako groans.  
“Oh please, don’t say that out loud. They’ll do it here, literally. And I’d _really_ prefer to skip that.”

The agent’s upturned lips are aimed at the slicer.  
“I was just playing, miss Mako.”

A wry smile rises on Jov’s surface.  
“So, the SIS don’t got all the facts in the galaxy, huh? She’s noting that Bery and I used to be a thing.”

This does cut it to lightly throw Shariss, not having foreseen this express element.  
“…oh. My bad.”

“That was years ago, though”, the Captain underlines.

The Champion stares at her and nudges her own forehead.  
“I still got your habits written in my memory.”

The twi’lek taps her upper lip thoughtfully.  
“Hmm. You were pretty talented at the rough stuff.”

Shariss eyes the Captain and then shifts to Jov, while nodding at the twi’lek.  
“I’ve heard this one getting great praise for her kissing mastery. Your verdict?”

The human lays her arm in behind the backrest of the sofa, checking out the same woman.  
“Eh, she’s alright.”

Bery draws her face towards her friend at a moment’s notice and gasps in a faintly offended capacity.  
“What?! Don’t you screw me over now, Jov! You used to be all over these lovely plump kissers.”

“Hah! That’s fair, though it was mostly with my-“

Mako rubs her forehead, intently.  
“Okay, let’s move on, please!”

“’Least she’s got nice tits.”

Bery’s lekku curl proudly and folds her legs.  
“Damn right.”

Shariss doesn’t seem to be fussed, raising her elbows at Mako.  
“I’m used to friends who bonk when I’m not looking.”

The Captain tips her head to the left and smirks.  
“Heh. Yeah, can imagine.”

Not satisfied with their tacit agreement, Mako shakes her head.  
“I don’t mind, just…don’t wanna have a long conference on the deets.”

The agent grazes her chin.  
“Well, when you put it that way…  
At any rate, I’m present now, like we agreed over holo. I am all ears, but likewise perplexed, in a sense, by what this is pertaining to. Wouldn’t have pictured you to be one to actively seek me out, Champion.”

Jov lifts her hand in a laidback touch.  
“It’s not as mysterious as you’re putting it. Turns out, you’re the one person I can ask this favor of, since you’re affiliated with someone I want.”

“I am? If you insist. Shouldn’t be too tough of a nut, depending.”

“I’m not perfectly sure either way, but I’m strapped for answers, so all I can do is ask. This is concerning Elu’ravi.”

The smuggler expends a reasonably bewildered expression.  
“…Elu who? That’s not a name I’ve heard. It’s not anyone from the old days, is it?”

Jov does not respond, but zeroes in on Shariss. The agent is a tad surprised by her question.  
“Hold up. Why’re you looking for her?”

“She and I have to chat”, Jov responds concisely.

“About…?”

“Can’t give that away. It’s…unfinished personal biz.”

The mirialan skims the tip of her index finger along the rim of her glass.  
“I’d wager she’s bunkered somewhere in the core worlds. Tython or something.”

“Yeah, that adds up, but the Jedi don’t store much of a high opinion for me in that region. I’m not a welcome sight, ‘specially not since my latest fuckups.”

“How so? What’d you play with?”  
The human, more often than not, is a bold and forward woman, but she halts herself here and her gaze departs from Shariss’, to stare at a wall.  
The mirialan finds herself stirred by this and she nudges her glass away to the outskirts of the table, so that she can rest her elbows on the surface of it and tilts ahead.  
“Champion, I respect you – for a bounty hunter – and you’re a solid person here and there, but I’m gonna have to know firsthand what the glitch is. I could root it out myself, but I’d rather hear your version.”

Jov does not requite this articulation of understanding and approval for the opening fifteen seconds or so, until she at last changes her mind. Their vision rally in the center and though Jov is intense, Shariss merely cocks her eyebrow expectantly.  
Throwing in the towel, Jov lets off a minor shrug with her hands.  
“I…killed her teacher. Shot down Seros, one of ‘em masters from the Jedi, a couple of months ago.”

This is of course a profound set of news, one that Shariss allegedly has not been up-to-date on, due to how she leans into her seat and crosses her arms with a solemn glint in her eyes.  
“That…would do it, yeah. I realized you guys were in conflict, but…”

“I had to. There was no other out in there than doing away with him, for me and my crew’s safety.” She falters briefly. “…or so I thought.”

“Then…I’d reckon Elu’ravi is bound to be pissed off to no end.”

“Yeah, big time, last we met. We…had a scrap. She beat me up quite badly and then stormed off without explanation.”

“So, not a happy conclusion then…”

Mako flips her hand around snappishly.  
“You see why I told her this was dumb?”

“But this is why I gotta take it up with her, to make this right”, urges Jov.

“And what if it doesn’t go the way you plan? Are you willing to solve it with blasters?”

“It doesn’t need to.”

“But you don’t have the faintest if it will.”

Bery then holds up her hands somewhat dramatically.  
“Hey now, back it up. What is this I’m hearing? You’re looking to have words with a Jedi?”

Jov inclines her head curtly.  
“In short, yeah.”

“…why? You gonna kill her?”

“Like I was saying, no. It’s a private thing.”

“O…kay. Wait, is this a friend or…something else? What ‘bout your imp girl?”

“Shut your mouth for a sec, Bery.”

The Republic spy doesn’t show any sign of sussing out what that entails, but rather keeps her attention on the here and now. She marginally swirls her drink in introspection.  
“I’m not keen on signing death warrants for Jedi; explicitly when it’s someone I value. I’m kinda in the loop on your mangling of the others.”

“You got it wrong, though. This isn’t a kill scenario.”

“Then what? What else could it possibly be?”

Jov slips her hands together, rolling her thumbs, wrestling with her thoughts to fix on the right words.  
“It’s…it’s about judgment.”

Shariss’ brow crinkles.  
“Haven’t you done enough of that?”

“No, not-…listen to what I’m telling ya. It’s not _my_ judgment – hers.”

The agent looks nonplussed.  
“What? I’m not tracking your logic here.”

Jov exhales with a hint of frustration, but also a presence of shame above her.  
“I…owe her a number of things, and I gotta settle up, whether I’m in or not.”

“Owe…her? I’m not clear on how you plan for that to go down, if you executed someone she loved.”

“Nor am I”, adds Mako warily. “I don’t like where this is heading. Better not be what I’m interpreting it as…”

“I wonder. Won’t this just inspire Elu’ravi to raise hell a second time?”

“Not unthinkable”, states Jov frankly, “but it must be fulfilled anyway. Not up for debate.”

“She could try to take your life, though. You know, again.”

Jov shrugs haplessly.  
“Anything is possible. And probable.”

Shariss erects her hand questioningly.  
“And provided she nails it?”

“Then that’s that.”

It’s then that Mako and Bery react like something stung them, balking at her words and what they convey, overcome by the very spirit of her kowtowing to death this intuitively.  
“Boss!”, shouts Mako. “What the freaking hell are you saying? This is crazy!”

Bery is moderately calmer, though even she sounds averse to it.  
“Jov, pal…seriously, you’re liable to get into some treacherous fucking shit, but yeah, this is nuts.”

The Champion is undeterred by their griping.  
“Your cases are empty here. This is specific to Elu’ravi and I’m only vested in whatever she wants.  
So, what’s the score, Kartur? Can you manage this or am I gonna have to nose around for a different SIS goon? Not that I’m familiar with any…”

Shariss rubs her chin.  
“Hmm. Contemplating it.” And that she does, her eyes fading from their convo, to listen to every internal angle in this atypical pickle. She sips from her drinks once prior to any advance.  
“There are a few question marks that’s going nowhere fast. Like, what good will our transaction be if you’re dead? I have to fetch something in exchange. You’re not a shred of benefit to the Republic if you’re dead and buried.”

“What’re you on about? ‘course it will – I’d be a corpse and you guys can cross me off the SIS hit list. It’s a win-win.”

The slicer in the party lifts her arms in dismay.  
“Jov, what the fuck!? What’s wrong with you?”

“What hit list?”, asks Shariss. “We don’t got one of those.”

“Banthashit”, counters Jov.”You’re spies. Everyone’s got one.”

“We are _not_ Imperial Intelligence.”

“Be square with me, spook. You’re telling me that the SIS, the same shadow group that’s come at me and the other Grand Champions multiple times with targeted strikes, ain’t got a listing with bad people they want out of the way? For real? I don’t believe that for a stars-damned second.”

With Jov’s perseverance in this matter, Shariss does start to give the idea of being quite disconcerted. She twiddles with her hair and breaks off from their united gaze.  
“…okay, but we don’t claim one where you’re tallied.  
Anyhow, yes, I can make this work, but I won’t poke around unless you swear you’ll handle this with discretion. This is vital – don’t screw it up. I’m not friends with her, but I admire her contributions to the SIS and the Republic. Plus, she’s a great lady.”

“Yeah, we’re on the same tune. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Won’t be walk in the park. I don’t have a personal relationship with her, so can’t promise how this will settle, but I’ll take a stab at it. If you do outlive the encounter, you should know this will be a debt of favors from you to me and I’m not interested in compensation of credits.”

Jov crosses her arms casually.  
“That’s fine, I’m up for whatever. Never been big on outstanding stuff like that, so you can count on that I’ll be there for your call.”

Though Mako is distraught, burying her face in her hands, Bery glances at her companion with a thoughtful sight. What has she gotten herself into right now? Their lives are…quite a contrast.  
And yet still…  
“Hmm. Not everything has changed since the old days, then.”

“You know me.”


	8. Valued life

The last thing Elu’ravi would’ve calculated from the complexity which her life has come to is that she would be contacted by the woman who set her existence ablaze and asked to meet up. In the months since their previous…engagement, Elu had long pondered how she would tend to it, if she ought to be the one to launch their renewed interplay.  
The fix embedded in this consideration is that Elu had been concerned of if she is able to even conduct it…or if she wants to. It still can’t be denied or forgotten that Jovana was and _is_ her master’s killer. But is that circumstance not spot on why Elu has to get into the thick of it and cull future resentment, to show this hunter the right way of things for her behavior with the Jedi?

At the end of the road, it was not Elu who played the part of the instigator, for apparently the mandalorian had been hanging tight to embody this exact role in this equation. It was agent Shariss who had holo’d her, and she was thankfully forthright – the spy distributed the full tale to the Jedi, that the Champion sought a meeting. This was to ensue on the landscape of an impartial world, neutral ground, and there were assurances of no hostilities and no violence, if this is granted in return.  
Amazing them both, Elu had wasted no time to accept the proposal, though the twi’lek couldn’t tell her why, for she had no justification. It was all down to…a gut reaction.

The designated planet is not one that she’s ever visited before, nor one she’s really put on the list of engrossing locations. In the Republic records, it was labelled ‘Uncharted world ORS-1206-D’, with the ORS standing for Outer Rim Space.  
The foremost aspect she can place is that it’s no more than a couple sectors away from mandalorian territory. It is neutral, that much is plain, though she somehow senses this proximity is significant.  
The surface and environment are definitely striking – wildly and enthusiastically colored trees in green, teal, orange and copper colors, sinuous mountains, vegetation that otherwise would be miniature are giant here, such as mushrooms and bushes, and there’s an exquisite scent in the surroundings which evokes images of rainy autumn days back home. Despite that the fauna emulates these oddities to a particular level – giant insects, featherless birds and glowing mammals – none of them have assailed her. Could be that she is overly in tune with the Force to be noticed.

Elu is planted on a rock at an altitude, staring out above the geography of this planet. The vessel she took to get here, a basic transport model, is parked a few kilometers to the north. She would judge this active season to be spring, but honestly? She can’t deduce it either way. She’s not a phenologist, nor a meteorologist, or even has much intel on xenobiology, so pinpointing a surgical inference probably won’t take place here, with Elu’s opinion being the sole candidate as judge and jury. She’s fairly confident that she can spot rain blowing on the horizon, though, even if a great many miles off. That is, if the skies represent the same here.

Reflexively, she elevates her hand to lay it near her neck and on the necklace that now hangs from it. It’s the one gifted to her by master Seros. She’s borne it subsequent to her stay in the Jedi Temple, which is weeks ago.  
It’s not that this tactile sensation takes the pressure off the whole package of her stress for this predicament, but there is a noticeable build of a homely wind from within. It’s not even what Elu would describe as a desire for guidance, for she doesn’t get the impression that master Seros would be conscious of the right actions in this position. It was his misunderstanding and imprudence with the mandalorian that led here in the first place. She doesn’t hold him solely accountable, for Jov shares some of the blame, but she won’t be so naïve as to deem him faultless. That said, the memory of his wisdom does grant her a measure of peace.

Elu’s solitary presence on this planet endures for another ten minutes or so, with the twi’lek retaining her station, eyes shimmering with an abstracted sensibility. In time, without progress, she questions whether she took this the wrong way. Did Vlasic trick her, to make a fool out of and prompt her to picture the worst of herself? It doesn’t suit the mandalorian’s previously presented style, but who can say for sure?

But at the moment she ponders marching out of here, the Force’s essence pokes her own and instructs her that she is immersed with another, in close vicinity to her settlement. Then, a minute thereafter, she catches noises from behind and glimpses across her shoulder. She spots a heavy-armored woman treading between the trees and via the undergrowth towards the Jedi. For a hunter, Jov is not being ideally silent and conservative with her momentum. However, this may be a hasty judgment, for the fact that Jov could have done this consciously. Maybe she wasn’t going for stealth, as to not confound or alarm the Jedi.

The mandalorian is garbed in her red and white beskar, in all its mildly scarred and unyielding glory. With every sway of her hips, the guns at her belt quiver slightly in their holsters, but none are drawn. Jov’s eyes are set on the greenery underneath, as she enters the open wilds, but no more than a couple of seconds elapse ahead of her cosmetic yellow sight getting trained on the twi’lek. Here, roughly forty meters apart or so, Jov parks her feet and the duo condenses their preliminary thirty seconds to staring inaudibly and contemplatively at one another.

Involuntarily, Elu commences reading and receiving the intuitions and mindset of Jov, as they rush at her like a flood – caution, curiosity, loathness, allurement. She’s clearly captivated and disconcerted alike by what Elu endeavors to put into play, here on the tail side of their preceding stalemate. A cumbersome enigma for them both, but Elu has no hunger for such brutality once more – it was enough to carry that weight for one day, and then to attempt to fix on some shape of normalcy when her eyes could see nothing but red.

However, Jov’s near-death experience notwithstanding, the Champion radiates no ferocity, no enraged thunder. There’s not even a sense of what Elu would label as ‘belligerence’. Is that for good or ill? Should she be relieved? At ease that there won’t be a fourth battle where they’re called upon to batter and swallow the spikes of?  
Well, not that they’ve been _at_ each other for every broil. In fact, back on Belsavis, Elu was educated in the very window of peace and prosperity that she here so craves. Whether that was a mere thorough pipe dream or not is a substance which she has to deconstruct today. That is, if she can muster the mettle to approach it…

Soon enough, Jov’s eyes drift to the environment, processing the flickering leaves, the lightly wiggling gargantuan fungus with caps as broad as houses, the remote wailing of…whatever beast it could be.  
“Any of this doing it for ya?”

Elu blinks her eyelids speedily and aimlessly.  
“…what?”

“This world, it’s…it’s called uh…  
Lemme see if I can get this right. Kari’t Enyam – ‘The sober west wind’.” She shrugs abruptly. “Apparently. Pal o’ mine said so, anyway.”

“Is that…mandalorian?”

“Mando’a, yeah. Not fluent, but I speak it okay. Claim it’s meant to be soothing to Force users or some shit like that. The world, I mean.”

“Who does?”

“My people and…well, you probably wouldn’t wanna hear more than that.  
In some departments of mandalorian culture, this planet is venerated for a heap of different reason.”

Elu leans her head to the right.  
“What does that connote? They want it preserved?”

“It’s up to what clan ya ask. For some, yeah, gets at that they won’t lay a finger on its surface, for fear they might tarnish its nature or spirit or…something.  
For others, it’s the reverse – this is a land to stalk for challenge, where you reap the best game, to test your might and mind on the animals and thinking vegetation that live and thrive on it.”

Elu angles her head inquisitively, but then realigns her focus to the woods, taking a step down onto the grass and uncloses her mind to the Force’s effect.  
“I will acknowledge that this world does teem with a pronounced...awareness that I cannot disregard. Life’s river flows at a pace that is energetic, but not…in discord.”

And now it’s Jov’s turn to be utterly dazed.  
“Uh…right. And that’s…good stuff, is it?”

“It is. An inviting serenity, of sorts, in the fold of an untamed wilderness.”

Jov inclines her head as if she realizes, even while not producing the max range of resolutions for it. It’s like it isn’t really warranted, for neither can Elu clarify in specifics.  
“That’s not half bad then. I think. The Force is basically mumbo jumbo anyway. To me, at least.”

“For those who cannot perceive it, I’d imagine so.”

“Glad you get it.”

Elu then reverts her gaze to the Champion ahead and in this moment, there is a defined introspection to her.  
“I…earnestly had not predicted we’d run into one another in this type of context.”

“What, on this planet?”

“N-…well, yes, that too, but this isn’t what I was referring to. In light of our showdown on that farming world, I had presumed our future one would be in combat…or not at all. That you would not merely come after me, but outright holo agent Kartur and endure the grueling troubles involved…I just didn’t judge you to have the will or the…patience, I suppose, to strive this far.”

Jov smiles and interlocks her arms with confidence.  
“Heh. Giving me too little credit, huh?”

“Something to that effect.”

Though she has not uttered or outwardly emanated this fact, Jov gloms onto that Elu keeps some of the rage precipitated by the hunter’s transgressions. Why she’d be convinced of this has a straightforward essence – the mandalorian herself was chronically fuming when she feuded with Seros. It outstayed its welcome to an emphatically unreasonable degree. She does not touch upon this, but the hunter can smell it, behold it in the bending of Elu’s fingers, the vacillating of her feet, up and down as they drift.

“So uh, I asked you to this place for…what was done. I’ve come to a decision of what you’re owed – an apology. I…I’m sorry. Deeply sorry, for slaying your master. I recognize that you had the right of it – I was capable of walking a new road, or at the very least show an ounce of mercy. But I didn’t. I didn’t care to, back then, and now I’m paying for that. Or rather, I oughta. I’m meant to, for skipping on the wisdom of someone who’s obviously calmer and keener than I am on these matters.”  
Elu does not speak it, but inside, the twi’lek is suspicious of her own adjustment to this. Could she realistically forgive Jov? Negotiate and compromise, yes, but absolve her wrongdoing?  
“This is my opportunity to pay you back, despite likely not being up to par. It’s the one channel I really got any bearings in though, so it’ll have to do.  
I wanna hand you a duel.”

The twi’lek, previously confounded by Jov’s message, is now flabbergasted.  
“W…what? Are you saying-…you want to fight me? _Again_?”

“Not exactly. This ain’t your average slugfest or whatever – an honor duel. It’s the way in which we settle debts. Retrace what I told ya – blood for blood. I…took your master from you. I executed ‘im. You’re owed recompense for that, the same chance I scored. It only seems right to me, seeing what I did to you.  
Your judgment was clouded when you attacked me, but this is straight up. And I mean that in every sensible way – no tricks, no flamethrowers, no jetpacks, no explosives. Guns, blades and fists – that’s it. It’s what you deserve to be given. It’s not his life back, but no one can return that one way or the other, so I’m offering what I can.”

The twi’lek stands struck for an unmapped period of time, part analyzing, part just…astounded by this revelation. Is this what the mandalorian had been weighing? More bloodshed and retaliation? Is this what will and could lend them an exit to this entanglement? It doesn’t sound that way. To Elu, it resonates of a return to the cycle, one that would endorse to them to wholeheartedly and uninhibitedly wallow in it.

With a couple of seconds passing, Elu finally speaks.  
“I must decline. You have misinterpreted my angle on this affair, Champion. I have no desire to beat, nor kill you. What I’d care to do is…get a concept of you, penetrate your mentality and draw some conclusions which could tug us closer to one another, on an emotional and spiritual level. Not welcome death back to us.”

The hunter appears to gain and grant mixed signals from this answer, judging by her facial aspect, almost like she’s impacted by a sense of self-doubt.  
“So…you don’t reckon I’m a worthy foe?”

_That_ was what she took from Elu? The Jedi didn’t rate her words as all that mystifying or cryptic. She said what she thought.  
“No, you aren’t-“ But she puts a stop to her clarification, when she groks that Jov would not delight in this position. In fact, she’d in all probability take umbrage at it. She _is_ a mandalorian.  
“…technically, yes, you are. To be fair, you’re probably the top of worthy foes I could choose at any given time.”

“Then, why…?”

Elu’s lekku shudders with doubt. How could she frame this in a fashion which Jov could appreciate on a similar basis as Elu?  
“I believe honorable adversaries like you rise above mere battle, and this resonates with the Force.  
You don’t hold ties to it equal to mine, but the Force is a profound, nearly bottomless outlet for connections and the streams of life. When you killed master Seros, I knew it. I could detect his death, how his vitality was ripped out of him, and flowed down to befoul the very earth. And then, I feasted my eyes on the wrongdoer, via the vision of my master, who transmitted your image to me. It was…jarring to be sure. The sum of these pictures and neural tendencies was instilled into me and then reshaped to a torrent of fury that I decided to toss right at you. And that reflex which I demonstrated, when I wasn’t far off from eradicating you? It’s…not fit for Jedi, or Force users of my persuasion in general. It’s devastating, tears at our insides and comes at a price. For some, it could transition them to the dark side in a harmful way. For others…it devours them, body and mind.”  
She expels air from her nose and drives her sight down to the yellow-green moss-like ground.  
“I was…undecided how to respond to it from within, besides the urge to take action, irrespective of how foolhardy and careless that action might’ve very well been. The complete trial of it was…mind-consuming. On top of this, clearly a fallacy. I had no place indulging in this manner of carnage and spiteful fixation.”

“Because you’re a Jedi?”

“This is one thread, but it misses that this would’ve harmed me too, my subconscious. A portion of my soul would’ve just…snapped. I’m not referring to the circle of death per se. I have killed in the past and doubtlessly will down the road – that is the nature of a warrior, which you’re keen to.  
No, it’s not the sheer undertaking of slaying, but to practice it with such…force. To have your blood running hot and boiling at the sort of extreme temperatures that it…extracts something from you. Well, for those who bathe in the Force’s creeks, anyhow.”

Jov stands there quietly and integrates what she’s told into her consciousness, though her expression also foretells that she’s abundantly out of the loop, not with the greatest mind for this.  
“Uh, well…I’m unclear what to tell ya. The Force ain’t my specialty.”

“I know, I know. Some of ours call what you are ‘Force-blind’.”

“Erm…I guess that’s fine? I can’t ‘see’ the Force for shit, so…  
Though, I tell you what, there was some type of…wacky shenanigans happening while we fought. Beats me what you did.”

In this, Elu’s head is slightly in flux.  
“…wacky?”

“Yeah. Can’t provide the facts, but you remember I was telling you to stop?”

“Err…to be honest, I recall very little from that fight. It was all…a blur of heat.”

“Well, there was a flurry of, like…images drowning my mind. Close to a…vision or some such.”

Now, the Jedi’s interest is doubly piqued.  
“A vision? Could you describe what you witnessed?”

“Seros, natch. Lotsa pictures of him hanging out with you, mentoring ya, busting out Jedi…whatever junk. I couldn’t peg the entire stack, since I’m not a Force gal. It was trippy.”

Elu is simultaneously intrigued, bewildered and wrapped in pure disbelief.  
“Did you see…the past?”

“Yeah, I reckon so. I wasn’t there or anything. I received something like, Seros giving advice, breaking down his…point of view, I took it. And also uh…you uncovering his body. Well and truly fucked up.  
Won’t pretend like I wasn’t kinda queasy by it. That sure did make me blind as a shivver vex cat. And I couldn’t pop any complementary senses, not when I was so overrun.”

Astounded by this unscheduled development, Elu considers it, but is oblivious to its insinuations. It can’t be that this mandalorian is…  
No. She outright declines that idea.  
“I’ve overheard rumors of this form of phenomenon, though it’s exceedingly unique. My first tutor, prior to my time as a padawan that is, once told me, ‘Elusa, the Force is a vivid entity, which bears great effect on’-“

“Elusa?”, Jov interrupts.

Elu is roused from her bubbling memories to stare at the mandalorian.  
“…what?”

“This tutor. They called ya ‘Elusa’?”

“…oh. That’s what you homed in on…  
Uh, y-yeah. It’s…an old nickname. A suffix of some description in her language. I think it’s meant to be endearing.”

Jov crosses her arms over her chest and nods at a reduced pace.  
“Huh. Pretty sweet.”

“I don’t-…okay. I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’re not on my page?”

“I daresay I never thought it over very deeply. It just…was.  
Anyway, this is a component which renders the Force every bit as exciting…and terribly volatile. A Force user can sway others, convince them of untrodden ideas, whether intentionally or unwittingly. This being the case, though, the…ambiguity to your concern lingers. If anything, I have never caught wind of it traversing anyone to this vast length. Not without warrant.”  
It is disconcerting, but Elu does comprehend that it can be eluded.  
“Regardless, I have no resolve to impose anything on you. If you’re under the impression that you’re indebted to me, abolish that notion. I would be more willing for us to…level the field. It’s not fair to have you at your knees.”

Jov sets one hand on her hip and gestures with the other.  
“Doubt it runs that way.”

“It can and it better do – for both of us. We can break off from this hostility, and move on with our lives, if we try.”

The hunter stares at her for what adds up to fifteen seconds or so, ones where not even Elu can read her – she’s too radical of an internal whirlpool to be surveyed.  
“If that’s your final call…”

“It is. Thank you, Champion, for contacting me, for aspiring to rectify this tragedy. You did well and I won’t overlook your endeavor – that, I can swear. But this is where it ends and where we part. Maybe we’ll meet again at some point, but for now, I advise you to keep to your friends and allies, enjoy the autonomy you’ve been regranted. And…try to be on your best behavior.”

Jovana does not reply, does not enumerate her sensation, but Elu procures this aura from her that she’s not with the Jedi on this premise.


	9. A champion's heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter plays out during the Silent Crack Of An Empire, when the New Empire has been formed_

A new year and a new puzzle. Though the Second Galactic War is still an ongoing conflict which is infecting and grinding the galaxy up, it looks as if the people has not been subject to enough misery in the less-than-humble opinions of certain leaders.

A newfound bane has appeared, going by the title of the ‘New Empire’, a faction that in itself is not so much a nation as a separate faction of the Sith Empire, which partially craves to surmount it, but also to occupy new glory in its name. Or rather, the name of its founder and designated ruler, one who wishes to inherit the previous rule of Emperor Vitiate.  
The Republic is therefore not the sole prey in this scene, though they are nonetheless a target. After all, is the Republic not the gem, the treasure that everyone who represents whatever Empire seeks to plunder?

In its combined assault on the two larger warring associations, the New Empire has wisely prioritized attacks on minor Republic worlds; neglected ones, those who won’t be of much concern to the Senate. Nila Harattel, situated in the Mid Rim, is one such place. In truth, it is not a Republic world of any kind, but is economically an ally, having affiliations of politics and trade with it. To this day, it has enjoyed independence solely by the fact that it has seldom been at risk, and the business it does with the Republic and other partners sustains it.

To a certain degree, their leaders now rue this option, as the New Empire’s ships loom in the skies, trying to break apart their defensive vessels and orbital cannons. They’re forced to defend themselves, as the Republic has not been able to dispatch troops here. They’re too mired in more extensive and instrumental planets, to divert anything to Nila.  
This world is not significant, but it is practical – basic food and mineral goods are aplenty here, angles which could more than benefit the New Empire’s conquest of the galaxy. And since this world’s fortifications were paltry at best, they smelled easy prey.

Besides the battle in space, troop-transport shuttles have been descending to one of the largest states on the planet, which makes up half of an entire continent. New Imperial detachments made their way into the capital city, crashing into various high-priority buildings with power generators and communication arrays. Another share of their forces now falls upon the main cluster of buildings assigned to the nation’s leadership, as they stop at nothing to get its Council to surrender. After all, the New Empire doesn’t wish to crush this world into dust, only confiscate it.  
So far, the defenders have stood tall. There is a lingering prospect that the Republic will come to their aid – they have to, unless they desire to yield this world. What’s worse, the defenders are on the losing side, gaining pace. Despite the imp forces not presenting an unscalable output, their war competency is superior.

But the central complex is not unsecured, for it is protected by the Presidential Security Guard, currently ran by a green-hued female nautolan in a medium-heavy navy blue armor. First-Captain Leosa Danib is not a woman who shies from standing her ground at the fore, notably so when invaders presume they can blast their way right into the core.  
She dashes from cover to cover with a blaster rifle in her gauntlets, as red and green laser projectiles whizzes through the air. What mildly dissuades her senses is how her homeland’s government building, one that has stood firm for over a thousand years, is already fractured by shots on every flank.

These facilities are a collection of offices placed on an elevated ground in the center of the city, with pathways in between them, statues of a few key historical and mythological figures in intervening slots, the whole bunch enclosed by metal fences. But this has now been somewhat contaminated by the plenitude of explosive imprints and the obligatory provisional bulwarks that has had to be laid down to protect the troops.

It is when the outcome reads as particularly grim that backup arrives, like a call and omen from the stars, that this planet shall not capitulate without a mountain of resistance. The imperial assault of four commandos is stemmed by a slightly heavyset woman with two dangling lekku of dark yellow skin and brown robes, who ignites a green-edged double-bladed lightsaber in her hands. She knocks a dozen blasts out of their intended path, reflects two shots back at their sources, and then with the Force’s support, flings a cracked piece of a statue at the final two, who are at the very least driven off.

A couple of seconds after, she picks up on an explosion to the west, in one of the walls, and the twi’lek bounces to her feet, bolting straight for this region. She’s on hand just as another patrol pours inside, facilitating the local troops’ cover with waves of telekinetic energy and lets the bolts from the outside go astray.  
At another point, she tosses her saber like a boomerang, permitting it to spin and slice into a tree that tumbles down across three more imps, and then draws it to her once more with the Force.

Elu’ravi is sensing her heart pumping in speedier terms, in light of all the running she has to do. She thought one Empire was more than enough, but now there’s two? Or some outlandish iteration of a civil war? And in the midst of another surging war on a galactic scale at that. Only the Sith would be so arrogant as to gain the illusion that now would be advantageous to enact a schism. It’s undoubtedly why they will fall, in time.

In this scenario, the imperials have to rethink their strategy and some of them retreat to do just that. In the meantime, the resident grunts flock to Elu. First-Captain Leosa is among them and she smiles broadly at the twi’lek.  
“That was topnotch! You’re one of a kind, master Jedi. Stars above, now I get why your type is so lauded.”

The twi’lek is apparently the first of her Order which Leosa and a bulk of the combatants here have ever encountered. Doesn’t help that she is the one Jedi repelling these invaders either…  
Elu smiles and bows her head.  
“I’m just happy I could be present. But one assault is not everything. There will be more. You had all better take your posts for when a genuine danger rolls in.”

The First-Captain slaps the top of her rifle.  
“Don’t you worry, master Jedi, we’re all set to go here.”

This is when ill news travel to their comms, as warnings and fear-filled voices tell of that the enemy has blown past the outer defensive line and are pressing towards the surface. In the skies above, they can make out blips of starships – cruisers and frigates predominantly – drilling into the clouds and firing up their thrusters to resist the forces of gravity. The New Empire is within the atmosphere and their turbolasers are launched to barrage the city’s blue ray shields, causing the air to shake. It will ward them only up to a certain phase, or when the imperial infiltrators disable the devices.

Although the overhead behemoths are irrefutably haunting, that is not what receives Elu’s attention – it is the shuttles that fly low and pierce the shields, which do not protect against non-blaster targets. These crafts drift atop the city, occasionally firing on residential buildings they fly past to instigate some panic, but it is not their ultimate goal. They proceed to the presidential structures.

As they set down, troops pour out, accompanied by a small group of differently attired players – red robes combined with enduring metal, without blasters, but keeping hilts at their belts and extravagant helmets on their heads.  
Leosa motions commands for her guards.  
“Get into position! Second wave starts now!”  
In her periphery, the First-Captain notes that Elu tenses up, her hand clenching the now-inactive lightsaber. She knows something.  
With them marching ever nearer, Leosa bends to the twi’lek.  
“Who’re they?”

Elu furrows her brow and breathes in slowly and disconcertedly.  
“Trouble…”

At the front line of these incoming infantries, in the middle of the scarlet-clad individuals, is a helmetless pale red-toned man with yellow eyes and short black hair. Tendrils hang down to frame his mouth like a beard – a pureblooded Sith. He orders a pause of the competition’s march right outside the gates and surveys them at an unhurried casualness. Then, he scoffs.  
“This is what your planet has to deliver us? For holding the line of your so-called ‘leaders’? Pitiful.”

Leosa pulls a switch on her blaster and aims it at him.  
“Oh yeah? Bring it, and you’ll see how ‘pitiful’ we are, laserbrain.”

Then, Elu advances, to settle herself midway of the two corps.  
“You’ll find that I am more than your match, Sith.”

The pureblood flips his sight from the nautolan to immerse himself exclusively in the twi’lek. He stretches out his mental faculties around her and comes to a realization.  
“Say what, now? And _this_ is what the Republic sics on the tenacity of the New Empire? One lousy, waste-of-space Jedi? Consider me thoroughly disappointed in your home’s output.”

“No one sent me, Sith. I came of my own accord.”

His contempt scales down and he samples her with renewed fascination.  
“Truly? Heh. So, a lone justice-seeker, then? Brave, little Jedi, but futile.”

“Nila Haratell is an innocent and impartial world. If the Jedi Order won’t or can’t defend it, then I will.”

“At least you shall go to the Force with glory, then – I respect that.  
I am Lieutenant Halenn of the New Imperial Guard, appointed by our master himself.”

“Elu’ravi Minnah, Jedi Knight and former padawan of Jedi Battlemaster Jun Seros. My recommendation to you is to turn back.”

Halenn lifts his right hand and shows it to the resistance.  
“This facility is from here on out the property of the New Empire and its leader shall swear fealty to the one true master of this galaxy – Emperor Malgus.”

Elu ignites her lightsaber and swings it in two rotations in front of her.  
“Not on my watch.”

Halenn’s brow creases in her bearing and he produces his own weapon from his robes.  
“So be it. You wish to meet your death head on, and I will grant this wish.” He nudges his head at two of his fellow Imperial Guards. “You two, attend me. We shall test this Jedi to the breaking point. The rest of you – slaughter these sorry excuses for soldiers.”

The New Imperial troops kneel down behind covers and then begin raining down fire upon the local grunts.  
In the meantime, Halenn and his guards advance on Elu at a walking pace, blaster shots enveloping their path on both borders. Halenn has his own single lightsaber, another holds two and the third simulates her own twin-edged.  
“Three versus one, is it?”, wonders Elu. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“Hubris, from a Jedi? You are an unusual one.”

“I am not the one invading and appropriating sovereign nations into my own pretend one.”

Halenn charges at her with his lightsaber held high, prompting Elu to raise hers to block his strike. He’s at minimum a head taller than her.  
“You speak unfavorably of Emperor Malgus at your own peril, worm.”

Elu grits her teeth intently, and perceives how her body shivers beneath the pressure of his physical strength.  
“I…have faced self-assured fools like you…before. And you don’t compare to the best.”

Just seconds ahead of the duo joining him, Elu deflects his saber lightly, so that she can duck below, roll to the side and then kick out with her leg to trip Halenn, invested with the Force. The pureblood does falter and descends harshly to the pavement below, but Elu is not granted an advantage on him, for his comrades swing their blades at her, which obliges her to cancel it and step away.

Until such time that he gets up, Elu only has to negotiate two people and she decides to bite into this, to turn it to account. Assuming she can strip one down, she will minimize her own risks of a loss. She extracts some energy once more, to pull some rubble to her, which are based on a mass of it located behind them. They are focusing on taking the fight to her, but right at the second of their administration, they both stagger, as the debris slams into their hindquarters, and they dart forward, past the twi’lek.  
To curb their potential for the future of this battle, she knocks one of these Sith out by setting her hand on their back and barreling a telekinetic charge of the Force right into their form, to render them unconscious. But with this line drawn, the remaining duo rises and makes further such actions void. Halenn spins into her and this time without underestimating the Jedi, narrowing the pitfall of getting shown up.

However, Elu gets the jump on them for a second time. Though she’s in a tight spot when they display some actual tactics and hem her in dead center, she is not a basic quarry to catch. In this arrangement, as it happens, she takes a page from a certain enemy’s book – once she’s deflected two dozen of their strikes, swinging from side to side, nearly burning out, she hops sideways. Naturally, they follow, but she had predicted this and with them driving up to her again, they get a full-frontal visual of Elu removing an object from her robes that she sets on the ground – a thermal detonator.

The Sith, in the shock at her audacity, readily relies on that it’s authentic and hence desist from their approach, so that they can cover ground away from her. It’s safe to say that this detonator is not primed, though Elu was betting on that they would be duped into interpreting that it was.  
During the process of their withdrawal, her gaze snaps to the detritus she implemented earlier as a blunt instrument. Time for a round two? She wrenches a large chunk with her mental gifts and yanks it right at the guard on the left, to hit their helmet.

In that second or two in advance of contact, Halenn suddenly fills in the blanks – this was a set-up. He grates his teeth, clenches his lightsaber and acts. While his ally gets coldcocked, the pureblood imbues his feet with the Force and soars into the air at the twi’lek, who is taken up with the task against the other.  
Thus, she can but staggeringly widen her eyes as Halenn flies into her, and her defensive maneuvers are insufficient to bar him from reaching her. Though it does not sink deep, the tip of his saber sears her arm, shredding the sleeve of it.

Elu lets off a tormented yelp and tumbles backwards. And in this misery, she does not quite construe that Halenn was clever enough to target her weapon arm, which results in Elu forfeiting her lightsaber. As it hurtles to the ground, Elu stares up at him from the road and tries to gather a viable load of her Force gifts to bump him away and grant her space. The pureblood is not in a mood to spare her that chance and drives his lightsaber downwards once more…but does not carve into his subject, for blaster shots hammer his weapon and grazes his legs too.

Halenn glares at whomever interrupted him, finding First-Captain Leosa as the perpetrator.  
“Don’t you touch her!”

As he wards off the bolts, Elu sees her ticket to life and forcibly shoves him off her with a telekinetic wave. Then, she pulls her weapon into her hand and retreats. Elu clutches her wounded arm as she practically careens into the barrier she held up by Leosa and her fighters.  
“Captain, I…thank the Force you were there.”

“You’ve saved our hides more than once! Only fair we pull yours outta death’s pit. Now let’s get you back on your feet. Medic! We need kolto here!”, she calls out and someone comes to assist them with a batch of it, whilst Halenn returns to his men.

Sadly, he yet keeps the leverage, as another transport arrives to ship more Imperial Guards and New Imperial commandos.  
“Surrender!”, he shoots at them. “There is no way to success. Either you accept your fate, or we etch it into your bodies.”

Leosa glowers at him behind her lines.  
“You couldn’t even take down one ‘measly’ Jedi. We don’t bow to tyranny that weak.”

“You will regret your words in time, fool.”

Elu’s breathing meets some hitches in the meantime.  
“He…he may be more right than he knows. I don’t think I can…”

Leosa alters her center at Elu.  
“Hey, don’t say that, master Jedi. You just thinned two of those bastards.”

“Yeah, but it was under the wire. Now he has…no less than four more. Don’t believe I can tackle that alone.”

The nautolan drops to a knee and holds her shoulder.  
“You’re not alone. We’re with you.”

“Heh. That’s courageous, Captain, but…”

The two of them halt their conversation for a moment, as they catch radio chatter by Halenn’s position.  
“Guard-Lieutenant Halenn! Answer me!”

The pureblood clicks his tongue bitterly, and switches it on.  
“What is it, Commander?”

“W-we’re under attack!”

“Excuse me? You haven’t gone demented, have you, old man? _We_ are the ones attacking.”

“No, you damn-“ An explosion momentarily hinders the man on the other side. “An interloping fleet has joined the defenders!”

Halenn wrinkles his brow with disorientation – a detail which is shared by the women. To acquaint herself with what this might signify, Leosa fetches a set of electrobinoculars from a bag and directs them upwards, to the clouds. No more than a handful of seconds elapses, before she acknowledges anything.  
“Oh yeah, I can see it. Holy-…they’re really helping us out. Firing all over the shop.”

“Who…who is it?”, asks Elu, still taxed by her injury. “The Republic?”

“No…very small chance of that. You haven’t squeezed out a whole new set of designs, have ya?”

“Not that I know of…”

“Then I figure that’s not your guys. Not Sith Imperial either. I dunno who could-“  
She delves into silence for five seconds or so, until finally, she catches sight of something that practically has her eyes bugging out.  
“No, that’s-…what in the world? It’s…it’s the mandalorians!”

Elu, who had been longingly staring up at the overhead skirmish, even if she can see zilch from here, now flinches and tosses her sight at the nautolan.  
“…what did you say?”

“The mandalorians! It has to be.”

“That’s impossible. Are you…are you sure?”

Leosa lowers the binoculars and hands them over to the twi’lek, but so they’re aimed at the right bend.  
“Here, see for yourself.”

Elu does, looking around at the skies. As she does, the First-Captain assists her in fixing it right on a New Imperial cruiser being swarmed by smaller ships, layering and spewing fire all across the hull, dancing around its defenses like it’s a clumsy and massive beast, totally crippling it. Soon after, they’re followed by another cruiser, which under no circumstances follows Republic mandates. She feels her mind being struck as the binoculars zooms in on an image of the symbol at one of the plates – the skull of the mythosaur proudly portrayed, the insignia of Mandalore.

Joined by one or two cruisers, the mandalorian ships burst near and around the New Imperial vessels, vying against them for glory and to step in for the compromised native ships.  
“It can’t be…”, mumbles Elu.

Up next, she detects how one particular craft – no larger than a freighter – wanders off, aligning at the presidential complex and the fighting therein. A few kilometers distance from the area, the bottom hatch opens wide and three dozen jetpack-wearing mandalorians pile out and speeds towards them in a beautiful formation. Being more versatile and flexible than the rogue imperials, they start off by firing a preliminary shower of blaster shots over their positions, gathering them in one place, to hide from the above.

That’s when the pack of them drop down on the field, counter to where the locals are. They’re in beskar down to a man, in a spectrum of sizes, colors and builds, some not even humanoid. The one at the top of the pecking order is a red and white-striped armor that Elu has not spotted in months. She did not believe she’d ever behold it like this. Though, why wouldn’t she? Has battle not been their area of rallying since the start?

This woman tears off her own helmet and reveals scarlet-red bobcut hair, dark brown skin with a black serpentine tattoo on the right end, and piercing cosmetic yellow eyes.  
Jovana Vlasic grins, taking steps to stand nearest to the imperials, with their guns aimed now at the mandalorians who encompass their position, swaying her hips with severe bravado. Halenn angles himself at her and elevates his voice.  
“Mandalorians, exit this place! This is now the domain of the New Empire! If you seek survival, you will depart this instant.”

She seems to mount her eyes on the pureblood, finding her rival in this contest. Then, she beats her chest with her gauntlets.  
“Mando’ade! Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur!”

Shouts, battle cries and joyful roaring emanate from the speakers of their helmets, and then they charge in unison, into the air or straight on foot at the imperials. Blaster fire soon saturates the sector completely, from rifles, revolvers and cannons.  
Jov engages the Guard-Lieutenant, initiating with her blaster revolver. She pops off a couple of shots at him, which he guards against with the use of his lightsaber. When she’s in proximity, however, her hand slips to her back, where she withdraws a vibro blade, but not the dagger she tends to lean into normally – this time, a proper sword.

She bursts herself forward with the push of a button, which activates her jetpack and though Halenn holds her at bay, the pressure of the sword whacking onto his saber makes him glide on the rocks under his feet.  
“You…filthy mongrel”, he tells her with tightened teeth. “Your primitive tribes won’t best the New Empire!”

“You’re not very familiar with mandos, are ya?”

She pushes him on the backfoot with multiple wide and hard swings, but once he’s oriented his mind in this flow, he attempts to turn the tide by slamming her with the Force and then lunging at her with the lightsaber. Fortunately, he takes her physical shape for granted, and when his blade nips down on her, she employs a similar stunt she’s played on Elu’ravi and other Force users who rely too heavily on their supremacy – she powers up her jetpack, goes sideways and foils him.  
When he flies past her, she lifts one arm and fire blows out of it in a stream, coercing Halenn to back off, as to not get taken by the heat licking at his skin. She clips him a few more times with a revolver, and the Sith sees no alternative but to retract what ground they’d gained onto the defenders. This is emulated by the remaining imperials too.

To flatten Halenn was never Jov’s intention, and she beckons her people to lodge themselves near the buildings, right next to the other defensive positions with the locals. Jov runs to the Jedi, who’s now rising as well, with the kolto taking effect.  
“Elusa!”, she shouts.

Elu isn’t at a decently stable state of mind to decipher her own thoughts. For a few moments, they’re merely plonked there, two meters apart, with Jov panting subsequent to her battle. Sooner or later, the words do come to the twi’lek.  
“How…how did you-…where’d you come from?!”

Jov flashes a steady grin at her.  
“Hey, don’t get it twisted – you ain’t the only one who’s got allies in the shadows, hot stuff.”

What does that imply to start with?  
“I…what-…but we agreed…”, she alludes, but hardly even believes herself.

“You were right again, Elusa – worthy foes warrant more than combat, if it’s the right one. Sometimes, they’ve earned your respect…and a helping hand when they’re in need.”

What could she possibly-…oh yeah. This has bearing on what they conversed about months ago. Although Elu can scarcely imagine how she’s retained this in her memory right through to here. Elu feels how her head gets full up with beliefs and reasonings on this, what she ought to say or ask or beg Jov for, that in the end, she has no formal revelation.  
In favor of any option that might be subpar, she complies with her foremost intuition – she extends her arms and simply, as well as directly, hugs the mandalorian. Jov had not foreseen that the Jedi would behave so emotionally, as that’s not rightly their style, but this is only preceding the happiness that sets in, and Jov smiles while she reciprocates.

“I got ya, cutie”, she whispers.

Speaking next is the Captain.  
“Miss…uh, what’s your name?”

“Vlasic. Jovana Vlasic of clan Lok.”

“Right. We’re thankful for the assist! But what brings an army of mandalorians this way? You’re not friends of the Republic. Or us.”

“Sorta. And we’re not an army – these are some of the clans allied with my clan. We’re clan Lok, with clan Bralor, clan Molkan, clan Eldar, clan Wren, clan Multima, clan Fett and clan Gedyc. We’re doin’ business with the Sith Empire once more, set on putting down these fake New Empire shits. These peeps are our enemies.”

“Wow. I…dunno what to say. I’ll take it!”

Jov dips her head affirmatively at Leosa, and then maneuvers her sight towards Elu, nudging her arm in a friendly manner.  
“So, Elusa, you wanna put these dickheads in their place, or what?”

First, the twi’lek glances at the mandalorian, not just seeing the confidence in herself, but in Elu as well. Jov may not have heeded how Elu was on the brink of toppling them, and yet she can wrap her head around it. To have someone trust her like this…it feels good.  
She then pivots to Halenn, and whets her demeanor for what’s to come. Her pain is numbed for now and she equips her lightsaber again.  
“You bet I do. I shall grapple with him.”

Jov briefly sweeps the guy she tackled earlier, making him totally dumbfounded at what her people can do, but when she rearranges herself at the twi’lek, reading into the intensity she musters, the mandalorian singles out her role.  
“Alright, you got it – he’s yours to butt heads with. Won’t get in your way.”

Elu does her the courtesy of facing Jov, nodding her head. A warrior’s esteem for a warrior.  
“Thank you. Can I count on you and your people for the others?”

“Don’t even have to ask.” The fighting has died down impermanently, as the imps lick their wounds, but Jov then steps up to one of the barricades and rests the vibrosword on her shoulder.  
“Mando’ade!” They respond to her with confirming shouts and knocking of their wristguards, answering their Grand Champion. “Let’s show these suckers the meaning of war!”


	10. To quantify unity

Within a galaxy bogged down in an ill-considered and ever-growing war, it’s a real bother to cling onto anything as fully permanent and reliable, for the mind or the body. Elu’ravi had prayed that the Jedi Temple on Tython would not be struck or demolished like its predecessor on Coruscant was in the first rendition of such hostilities, when the capital world’s metal base was painted in Jedi blood.  
By this point, no such immeasurable threat has shown to be impending, but with two Empires, it’s too undisciplined to say either way. The most they can do is hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

One who also made her backtracking to the Temple is the Grand Master, who had been buried in tasks on Coruscant, a range of ships and fleets, or out there in the miscellaneous enclaves, to keep morale at a steady rate among the Order at large.  
Once she’s conducted meetings and discussions with masters and other Knights of the Temple, Satele settles on leading herself over the pathway which goes to Jedi Knight Minnah. The two of them have remained close for the last few months, in the aftermath of their little talk in Elu’s quarters. Satele has not vocalized it, but the twi’lek has now grown into one of those which she wishes to support, in a manner of speaking. Elu lost her master in a most violent and abrupt process, a happening which can open internal and personal scars. Satele would know.

Fortunately, on this day, she has no need for rummaging about with her senses, for Elu made her arrival clear and passed along a report on the battle of Nila Harattel a few weeks ago. Satele had pored over it with enthusiasm, and not solely on account of it being composed by Elu. The components could stand on their own as rewarding for the reader, with curious clues and goings-on.

Knocking at the correct door, Satele heeds a faintly muffled resonance from the twi’lek, while she calls for whomever it is perched outside.  
“Enter!”  
Satele is at a loss for why, but proceeds.

Inside, she pegs down her answer – Elu is seated on a nice and snug pile of pillows, with an active holographic projector that is playing an entertainment holoshow of some flavor. In her hands, while she’s reclined, she holds a metal spoon and a wide plastic bowl, containing a type of food which can likely be filed as a form of dessert. It’s brown and white, with more colorful blobs of cream on top.  
Elu has just crammed the spoon into her mouth when Satele enter, inflicting an awkward expression on the Knight’s face. She hadn’t awaited a guest, and by no means that it’d be this one.

With a bashful wipe of the back of her hand over her mouth, and a curl of her lekku in an equivalent vein, she drops the spoon into the bowl, and puts in an effort to swallow her food.  
“O-oh…uh, Grand Master. Hello. I didn’t think you, uh…”

But Satele does not create a whole thing out of it, for she merely erects a polite smile at the Knight.  
“No need to be distraught. I apologize if I interrupted your meal.”

Elu clears her throat and strokes her fingers along her neck.  
“Uh, I…well, I wasn’t having dinner or anything. Just erm…”

“Comfort food?”

“Mm. How did you…?”

Satele inclines her head and interlaces her own arms.  
“Master Jun explained it in the past, that you treat yourself from time to time with something savory.”

The mild embarrassment on her surface then goes forth.  
“…ah. Yeah, it’s just…one of my quirks, I guess. Food is…nice in a ton of situations, and nice food is…nicer.”

The human chuckles kindly, albeit with poise.  
“I can’t argue with that logic. It is quite apt.  
What is it you’re having?”

“It’s a dessert my old master cooked up when I was younger.”

“Not master Seros?”

Elu shakes her head shortly.  
“Master Koba-itani. I spent my initiate years with her, on Telos IV. She was a keshiri with…well, a sweet tooth.”

“What is it comprised of?”

The Knight tentatively rubs a hand along her right lek.  
“Uh, it’s a homemade chocolate pudding recipe, with a variety of local nuts, a few spices and a thick multi-flavored cream. Master Koba mixed it up herself usually, but I had to buy it from a shop instead. I’m…not much of a cook. Doesn’t taste as good as hers, but…”

“According to Jun, you partook of such culinary delights only in instances where you either display relaxation, nervousness or unhappiness. Is today one such time then?”

Elu rolls her shoulders and points her eyes to the floor.  
“Well…to be fair, yes. I would say I’m somewhere in between those emotions today. Debatably, I’m leaning further towards the latter two, given what I’ve experienced.”

Satele nods with an indication of intentness.  
“On that note, I was curious if you had a few moments to discuss that event. I read your report, and there are sides of it I speculate could use some details.”

The twi’lek turns off the holoshow by pushing a switch very lightly with the Force, and then deviates to the Grand Master.  
“I would amenable to it, yes. Could probably benefit from some company too.  
Should I get you some pudding, master?”

Satele raises her hand in mellow rejection.  
“Thank you, but I’ll pass. It does seem quite appetizing, but I’m not a tremendous fan of sweets.”

“Ah, yes…of course.”

This wasn’t a criticism from the human, simply a remark, and Elu is aware.  
Satele then sticks herself on the floor, and communicates genially.  
“The Jedi Council was equally concerned and made exceptionally wordless at the fact that mandalorians would come to the aid of a world like Nila Harattel. It’s fairly uncharacteristic of them, and it wasn’t, from what I could tell of your writing, patently profitable for them.”

“Yeah, my ideas go hand in hand with that. When their ships burst into the atmosphere of that world, I can’t call up a day where I went through so many sensations. But…there was a separate material to it, which went beyond any clean thoughts of eagerness for the mandalorians to support planets of that size and value.”  
She bites her lower lip for a moment, deliberating on whether she should be up front.  
“I didn’t jot that down, but…” She alters her sight at Satele. “Master, did you check out that Jovana was listed in the document I crafted?”

“Yes, I did. As I said, I read it all.” There’s a gleaming of minor amusement in her eyes. “Judging from your portrayal, I pictured it as a rather heroic rescue. Or assistance, if nothing else.”

Elu clears her throat somewhat awkwardly.  
“Yes, that was…kind of intentional. Admittedly, I can’t absolutely prove it, but I am of the opinion that she…could feasibly have called forth the other clans to that battle just for me. I can see that this might contain traces of presumption, but there it is.”

“Hmm. Did she put it this way?”

“No, she didn’t. As it turns out, she didn’t present any strict justification for us in the slightest. When the New Empire withdrew, the mandalorians elected to tail them, so I never had any chances to push her for truth. I attained her mail months ago, and dropped her a few messages, but they were only partially replied to, when she could spare a moment, despite how excited she had appeared. Even here, I’m unable to pinpoint the fine print of her conclusions.  
That aside, she does carry the favor of Mandalore, their de facto leader, and overall, their people do look up to her as a manner of…auxiliary commander. She is the Grand Champion of the Great Hunt, but also the champion of mandalorians everywhere. She does hold that power.”

Satele folds her arms in a contemplative note.  
“I was of the impression that you two had not encountered one another in many a month.”

“Yes, this is not wrong. Or more exactly, there have been…messages once or twice. Mostly on her end, since she wished to verify that I was in a fair state of health, which I was.”

“So, how then did she fix on your location?”

Elu can do nothing else than raise her shoulders cluelessly.  
“On that angle, I have no worthwhile response. She cited a vague notion of a shadow contact, but that’s the sum of it.”

“That is odd and a pity, but it’s plausible that she had some plan with this move, whatever that may be. I’ve never quite been able to make sense of them.”

Elu’s hand ascends to caress the necklace from her master, and Jun’s cadence oscillates in her consciousness.  
_“A Jedi’s burdens are abundant, but above all, we have an obligation to be responsible, true to ourselves and to the galaxy. Self-satisfaction aligns one with the dark side, quite tangibly when it is savored without limit.”_

The twi’lek then rubs her spoon along her dessert, flattening some of the cream on it.  
“I’m eating some of this as I feel…conflicted. Kind of in two minds where to go. I’ve come to grips with that I have to talk to her one-on-one. Maybe…maybe even repay her for the save, in some way.”

Satele pitches her head slightly to one side.  
“Do you deem yourself to be indebted to miss Vlasic?”

“To some extent, yes. I wouldn’t put it past Jovana to have made this her attempt to turn our levels even, on the back of her own dreadful endeavors with master Seros. But as I previously stated, there was none to measure, so she shouldn’t need to. Sadly, she continues to sound so…stubborn. Hell-bent on her own perspective, without me being able to stop her.  
In that equation, I can’t be below her. This isn’t balanced, but I must make it so, somehow, in solidarity. It’s the least I can and _should_ do.”

“Hmm. If that is the case, have you readied any kind of project for it?”

Reintegrating some insecurity, Elu nudges her foot into the floor.  
“Uh, no. Not exactly. There’s simply this…urge. To get back to her.”

Satele sticks two of her fingers to her own chin.  
“To get back? Not to help her, then?”

Elu’s lekku stiffen in confusion.  
“Excuse me? Oh, uh…yeah, that’s…that’s what I meant. Yes.”

“It is not what you asserted. Clang with a different spell.”

Once more, Elu seems out of her element. She exhales ponderously.  
“Grand Master Shan, please forgive me. I’m loath to admit that there may be an argument to be made for that there are…roaming feelings.”

“What order of feelings?”

“An…attachment, at our crossroads, when it’s clear that it wasn’t intended to be. I’m soundly aware that this goes contrary to the Jedi Code and protocols, but…”  
She ostensibly slows down for Satele to catch up or reflect on the subject and Elu’s potential violations, but the Grand Master does nothing more than sit patiently on her spot. This furnishes Elu with adequate courage to stay at it.  
“I’ve questioned whether peace is a sustainable option for us two, or…perhaps more. Could friendship be a dream or a vapid thought? It’s not as if I never attracted friends before, but…not in this capacity. Jovana is so…radiant.  
When news crackled on the New Empire’s comms, and my associates outlined that the mandalorians were in the skies of Nila Harattel, I was all but able to…sense her. Like she reached out to me. Which is impossible, seeing as how she’s not Force sensitive.  
But this whole situation defies rationality for me. In certain ways, it’s twisted, tainted. Jovana continues to be the one who murdered master Seros, so…”

Elu shuts her eyes and shrugs dejectedly, blind to what she is to do or think or say. Satele is not an enormous quantity of support to begin with, distant as she is. However, she recovers only seconds later and touches Elu’s arm gingerly, fastening her fingers to it.  
“Personal relationships are fickle creatures. Never as straightforward as one might desire. I…know this. Sometimes, one meets a person, and it starts to just…click. Despite that the Jedi Code advises restraint and resistance to its allure, the heart often fights it. As does the Force, which goes deeper than any laws.”

To hear the Grand Master of the Jedi express herself comparatively laid back on the boundaries of the Code is…energizing and astoundingly intriguing, in more respects than one. Elu caresses her remembrance of master Seros in necklace form once again, examining if she should illustrate another necessary point in her bond with the mandalorian.  
“Master…I dug up a unique fragment during my peace-making with Jovana, in our solo meeting. An event which apparently hit her. She attempted to distinguish – although clumsily – that I in some way…transmitted images to her. One could even refer to them as memories.”

Satele is noticeably fascinated by it.  
“Elaborate.”

Elu begins sketching the scene for them both.  
“She observed my experiences, my recollections of master Seros, but right from my retinas. The counsels he had supplied me with, his lessons and sparring, even when I found his…”  
She breaks off for a couple of seconds, her eyes dulled, until she can resurface.  
“I have received whispers of such proficiencies, but never personally lived through one. Or more accurately, put anyone else into such a state, for lack of a greater term.”

“I have”, Satele phrases with a far-off flavor. “I’ve perceived and bestowed them, in various cases. That being said, it is uncommon for a non-Force sensitive to be able to read them.”

“Agreed. I kinda drew a blank, but this is what she hinted at. And her descriptions of these occurrences were terribly factual, so it can’t have been a tall tale.”

Elu’s attitude has lightened, as have her demeanor and bearing. Satele has closely spectated this, while simultaneously analyzing the mental fabric which flows from her.  
“Do you maintain that this mandalorian is a decent woman?”

The twi’lek is not pressed for any pervasive periods to ponder her answer to this.  
“Yes, I do, without question. She’s friendly, emotional, tough, resolute and honorable. Though this is a brand of mandalorian honor.”

“And you had no qualms regarding putting your life in her hands?”

“None. It’s…tricky to pinpoint why that is, but I can’t cast such truths off without lying to myself.”  
With an absence of chatter for a couple of seconds, Elu drifts to Satele and notes that the Grand Master has this abstracted view to her at a second occasion. She tries to interpret what’s on Satele’s mind, but the human’s psychological protections are too sturdy and astute to be penetrated. So instead, she asks.  
“Is something amiss, Grand Master?”

Satele does not swiftly animate, but instead expresses her response patiently.  
“No, not ‘wrong’ in and of itself, but I am simply assessing this from my own post. Serving as Grand Master, it is not in my guidelines to endorse anyone to break the Code, for instance to make a friend. But…given that you are dead set on this route any which way, I will impart my blessing, to explore these sentiments with the Grand Champion.”

Elu is mildly shaken by this, her mouth left ajar for a handful of seconds.  
“You…you will? You’d permit this? Without caveats?”

The human reengages her dedication to this conversation, and to Elu.  
“Yes, in this incident, it merits investigation. For scientific information gathering, of course.”

Elu is even further mind-boggled by this statement. Was that…a joke? From the Grand Master of the Jedi?  
“But…why would you? Isn’t this uh, inappropriate?”

“Some would claim it is, yes, but I somehow…detect that your dynamic may lead somewhere good, for the galaxy as a body. I can’t say how or why.”

A thrilling insinuation to hear from someone with such a gigantic supply of wisdom and experience of the Force. Could it be real?  
Elu then leans her head sideways inquisitively.  
“And…what of the Council? Wouldn’t they protest this?”

Satele then offers a fond but clever smile to the twi’lek, holding her hand.  
“I won’t tell them if you won’t.”


	11. A Jedi's sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This occurs after the Price Of A Sun's Kiss chapters where Shariss and Cierah have met_

The New Empire. Jovana isn’t quite decided on how she’s expected to piece them together, based on their output. They’re idiots – that much is clear and simple. You don’t branch off from your main forces in the midst of an active war, not if you have a single iota of ambition for a victory. But _if_ you do, you either hook up with the other side and beat your ex-chums senseless, to secure your own seat, or you fuck off into the depths of space and lie low for a while, let things cool down, get nice and crisp.  
What you _don’t_ do, unless you’re Malgus king of the airheads she supposes, is make it super evident that you’ve betrayed your old pals and then start another war against both factions. Simultaneously.

And nonetheless, poised here now and visualizing it, Jov has latched onto the truth that not only is this what he opted to do, against all odds, he also pulled off the move to charm a couple of mandalorian clans to enlist. She hasn’t looked up which ones that might be, other than that her own hasn’t and _wouldn’t_ even have this on the table, but it sounds bonkers.  
In her thirst for expanded knowledge on this front, however, Jovana did not second guess herself when she told Shariss that she’d come along in the blink of an eye, to the next mission which the agent had drawn up. Well, not that she had any genuine choice. She made a deal months ago, when she was after the location of a certain Jedi, but it helps that Shariss lured her in with this bonus.

Or it would have, if not for their status in operation. Jov dives down to the floor as another five blaster shots whooshes past her right above, all but licking the surface of her crimson hair. From behind her provisional cover of a couple of metal crates that they’ve stacked right outside the entryway into a key corridor, she angles one of her revolvers and fires a wide and kinda frantic shower of bolts, which she can’t imagine actually knocks a single person down, but that wasn’t the goal of it anyway.

The Grand Champion is on Drookar En, a former Sith Empire world, but in this moment being occupied by New Imperial forces. The encouragement for this is simple – she’s paying off her debt to Shariss.  
Though it hadn’t come off to Jov as a pivotal landscape, Shariss had asserted that the Champion hadn’t seen it for what lurked beneath the outer wrappings. There is vital intel which can be harvested from here, and even if Shariss could round up a Republic spec ops team, this was something which the mirialan felt that the SIS had to accomplish with their own resources. Plus, hiring a first-rate bounty hunter, perhaps the prime one across the stars in this modern era, for free, seemed well worth the effort.

For this to come to fruition, though, they had to divide their numbers. Mako and Gault went with Shariss into the core of the secret out-of-town facility that they were to infiltrate, and parallel with their foray, Jov, Torian and Blizz had to grab another krayt dragon by its horns, which was the matter of readying a distraction maneuver that could conceivably drag the imperial troops over to their positions.

This construction is pretty rudimentary – a small array of buildings on the edge of a forest next to a side road, fenced in with a metal grid. There’s sufficient open space everywhere for it to be easy as pie to get spotted and that is why they scheduled this little devious plan for nighttime, when it would be more demanding to keep a lookout.  
They also cannot forget, of course, that the New Empire hasn’t made the place accessible for larger crafts. The imps sought to keep it low-key and thus the complex holds nothing more than shuttle platforms.

The mandalorian’s endeavor is not meant to work purely as a vehicle to drain the attention from what Shariss and the other two are performing, but double as a sort of effort to bolster them in preserving their escape route. However, this has in turn indicated that Jov and her tiny squad is thrusted into a tricky scenario, for they’re currently getting pinned down by New Imperial troops. The diversion as such involved planting charges on the shuttles, blowing them up to block the imps from taking to the skies and furthermore to conduct beneficial flybys above. Instead, they have to rely on what they can project at the mercs on land. After that, the trio made their way towards one of the hangars here, adopting the exterior of it as a staging ground for their defensive.

Normally, they would bust out now, pop their jetpacks and rocket boots, to retreat prior to being dogpiled by a bunch of bucketheads. But they can’t break here, for until the mission is flipped to the next stage, there is no getaway, not save abandoning the second trio. And Jov is the type of woman who’d favor sacrificing herself above skipping out on a friend. She wishes a certain houk had kept that in mind.

Another complication for the mandalorian personally, throughout this assignment, is what she can at best mark as a sensation. A dim flare of something perturbing in the rear of her psyche, slightly out of bounds. She wants to grasp for it and pull it into the light, so she can figure it out.  
Is it a warning? A prompt or hint? Or just a general clue of anxiety for the consequence of this exchange?

Regardless, as she ducks mere millimeters below a couple of laser shots that were riding for her head, followed by her reprisal, she taps her wrist comm unit.  
“Y’know, Kartur, I’m pleased as punch any day that someone can share a good ass scrap with me, but in case you’ve totally missed out on it, for my money, I like being mobile. Not penned in like a fucking rancor. So, could you girls _hurry it the fuck up_?”

Over the comm, she hears Mako groaning.  
“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from pushing and disturbing us, boss. It will only draw out the process.”

Shariss on the other hand, utters her thoughts in the flavor which would insinuate that she’s smirking when she taunts the Champion.  
“Huh. I was of the impression that a daring and imposing mando like yourself wouldn’t have any problems covering this mission.”

Clearly a jab at Jov, but also, in some senses, oddly flirty. Jov snorts at that.  
“I ain’t jittery here, agent, but even I’m in the know that we got limits and can get outnumbered. That’s why I, as a rule, roll with a team – a _whole one_.”

Subsequently, she makes out the voice of her small jawa friend from the back.  
“Boss not need sweat! Blizz putting up mega cannon right now. Will boom boom all of these dumb men!”

Jov glances at him skeptically.  
“Yeah, just…don’t accidentally blow off your fingers, lil’ guy.”

She then overhears Shariss again.  
“You _did_ consent to this, didn’t you, Vlasic? Hang in there for like, a couple of minutes, and we’ll be on our feet.”

“That’s what you said a few minutes ago!”

“Well, stats change, mando queen.”

“You don’t-…” Jov groans, pivots her head and then blasts another round as well as launching one of her wrist rockets. “Look, just cuz you and I fondle the same girlfriend, don’t mean you get to jerk me around.”

This wholeheartedly catches Shariss off-guard, and Jov swears she can hear someone dropping an item on the concrete floor.  
“…’scuse me? I didn’t-…  
Cierah isn’t my girlfriend! We only shared a bed.”

In this arrangement, for various other people, the stances would be reversed. But here, Jov is the one to leverage a smirk.  
“That so? Not what I was told, though.”

“You-…wait, what? What’d she say to you?!”

In her peripheral vision, Jov gleans how a duo of imps are sprinting to flanking locations, so she dodges out and blasts their legs, preceding her counter to the agent.  
“Get that ass moving and I’ll gossip all ‘bout it later.”

“Oh, give me a break! Don’t be such a tease!”

“Too late for that now, ain’t it?”

Her banter has to reach a sudden halt, as Torian shouts for her.  
“Ner vod!”

Jov is putting some imps to the test, who have the guts to jeopardize their own lives to lug a new cluster of fences for their troops. Those who fortify them aspires to entertain her in the meantime, but Jov is not so handily beguiled and she drops one of the carriers with a chest shot.  
A second ahead of her answer, that earlier hunch reopens, but this time more like a swirling breeze which caresses her cheek. She still can’t make heads or tails of it, but it’s a given that it’s struggling to clue her in on something. What in the world is it, then? Why won’t it just show itself and be done with it?

“What?”

“A challenge”, he tells her in mando’a.

Torian is not one to make light of such business and thus, Jov spins to him. This inspirits her to forsake some of the jesting mood.  
“Ah, balls.”

She notes how a shuttle has been put down beyond the threshold of the facilities and five lightsaber-wielding individuals have leapt over the outer fence. Not to mention that two dozen troops are also circling this area to sprint at the gates. These five are inarguably what Jov would rank as Sith, but she’s not assured strictly what variety of them. Even though their lightsabers shimmer and flicker in red, they do not sport the clothes of the New Imperial Guard which she’s now feuded with more than once. Their garbs are darker, compacter and with diminished loose cloth.

In advance of their entrance into this precise region of the field, Jov looks at her brother-in-arms.  
“Torian!”

When he glances at her, she elevates her hand, points a finger up and spins it. The blonde human bobs his head at her and then fetches two orbs from his belt – detonators. He then hurls them straight out to the center of the field, whereupon some of the imps fall back.  
But they misinterpret his goal and when he blasts them, dense clouds of black smoke clog the whole area up, thwarting the aim from both sides.

At least, one could be made to assume that. But together with the smoke’s proliferation, Jov switches on her jetpack and darts into the airspace overhead, spinning her dual revolvers with one finger each, and then sprays half the locality with shots, which isn’t designed to be an illustration of accuracy as much as a procedure to test their aptitude.  
Accompanying these waves, Torian pulls forth his rifle and matches her maneuver from the lower elevation, which is due to be as discomposing as the one up above. For good measure, Jov pops two rockets at them too.

But though the duo is quite exquisitely destructive and disruptive to the imperials and the environment, the Sith are not painlessly fazed by death’s lights. At this range, Jov acquires better visibility to inspect them and here notes they incorporate four humans and one pureblooded Sith, all of them with cowls, but not with visors or helmets.

Once they’ve deflected the hail of shots, she distinguishes a woman at a forward spot – neat dark blonde hair tied into a small bun at the back, light brown hue and stark yellow gaze. Although Jov would wager a bunch of credits that these are from dark side affiliation rather than of a cosmetic nature, dissimilar from Jov’s own.  
It is not a straightforward task, even for a Force user, to crash a flier in the skies, but this lady gives another method a go – she unleashes a type of blast, nearly in the vein of a bolt, which flings itself into Jov’s device’s engine. The Champion begins spinning uncontrollably in the sky, bewildered and scrambled, until she disengages it.

She plummets hard to the ground, but saves herself with a final jet eruption, to dampen the fall and then rolls once on the pavement, before jumping to an upright posture.  
“Well, that ain’t very decent of ya.”

The woman who scotched her flight takes to her words.  
“You are the Grand Champion of the Great Hunt – Jovana Vlasic of mandalorian clan Lok.”

Pointed, direct, levelled. The voice of a CO. Jov slants her head to the right with a blatantly amused spirit.  
“Know me by name and everything, huh? Well well, consider me totally ‘honored’ that a buncha random Sith pay attention to little ol’ me. Tough to say I got a single fucking clue who any o' you assfaces are, though.”

They do not immediately flourish a sense of exasperation at her, so she can’t discern whether or not her prodding succeeded. The woman who bashed her down is the one to proceed with their introductions.  
“We are the Red Legion, masters of the shadows in the Empire. You have caused a nuisance, which must be attended to. A duo of menial mandalorians and a rat cannot hope to rival us. Your life will be at its end point today, in the name of Emperor Malgus.”

“Red? Hah, okay. Very imaginative. Wait, lemme guess why that was picked. It’s cuz you guys tend to-“

But it would appear this red menace has no patience for her japes and digs. All five of them bend their feet and then charges ahead into combat, segmenting their numbers into differing targets, to eradicate them as methodically as practicable.  
A trio of them single out Jov as the highest on the checklist, consequently pivoting their lightsabers in her direction, putting her in one mighty hotspot. Granting that she isn’t unaccustomed to coming to blows with Force users, one of the golden rules which she invariably practices is now broken – one should _never_ take on more than one of these Force jugglers at once.

The imperials do not steer clear of this conflict either, for victory here takes center stage, which can and must be earned at all costs. And in the case of the infamous Grand Champion, they’d prefer to hedge their bets.  
Bolts fleet and slug into every surface near and around Jov’s position, whilst she soars backwards, to not get struck by the lightsabers. She fetches her vibrosword from her back, but this is now a problematic combat relationship. Jetting up and opening fire on these fools doesn’t sound like the utmost auspicious reaction, since they’re just gonna snipe her again. Or even more horrific, they’ll yank her straight to the ground with their freaky mind hooks, to fall flat on her stomach. Could she live with that humiliation, let alone the pain?

Whether she’s capable to or not, the three Sith come at her and bring their gales of emotions and weapons with them, pummeling her sword and putting her through her paces. Their inaugural offense is nothing of supreme tactical brilliance, as it’s merely a prompt forthright attack. The self-designated captain of this group tangles their blades in a frontal slash, which Jov repels, but as she’s held here, her comrades pounce in from the left and right, to really corral and sever their quarry from two sides.

The solitary getaway from this lightsaber scissor of death that she can imagine is to rush out of it. She front kicks the captain and then triggers her jetpack to sail out of their reach. One might then estimate that she gains a couple of seconds to reassess the lay of the land, but they grant her no such ideas. Instead, they haunt her and continue the chase, being upon her spot in no less than a second and she has to bounce off their latest hammering.

These fighters do not just have a lot to bring to the table, as she ducks and rebuffs them, they additionally do not make a show of finding it laborious to modify the bearing and cut her off at the pass. It is frustrating, as Jov is then continuingly on the defensive, never a connection or street for her to settle accounts.  
Although the troops in posterior sections have so far not been much of a curse for Jov, through the fault of the Sith in essence surrounding her so rigidly that there is no vantage or aperture for them to aim at or play off on, Jov’s continuous retreat does them the service of uncovering her to them. When such a slit does get flushed out in due course, to assist their Sith allies, they don’t shy away from it and blaster bolts wash over the mandalorian on every occasion she even presupposes that she might be off the hook.

At this phase, Jov has the seed of a formula for triumph in the making, but inordinate multitasking is not her core competency with respect to two dissonant chores. Firing on two different targets is no big deal, but defending her life from a trio of assailants and conceiving of a workable game plan, all at one go, really puts her over a barrel.  
This is precisely why she’s taken by such surprise and is mere millimeters away from being deprived of her head, stemming from the imperial rifles to the east. But she can hardly believe her luck when she picks out the faint light in the environment and relying wholly on her gut, she hits the floor and by the skin of her teeth, finesses their harmful tastes.

Giving herself some breathing room, she throws the switch for the jetpack and hastens to the side.  
“Hey, what the hell, man?!”, she bellows at the soldiers. “What kinda fucking weakbags are you?! Who tries to blast a woman in the back, when she’s in a fight for her life against _three_ people? That’s just low.”  
Naturally, the imperials couldn’t care less.

That’s when Jov gets word from someone at the rear positions, derived of the littlest person in her crew.  
“Not worry, boss! Blizz done with big pow pow now! Bad guys watch out for bangs!”

Fetching a peek over her shoulder, Jov lays her eyes on a magnificent vision. The jawa has attached a blaster cannon onto a portable hover cart, which also entails a remote controller. Pushing the button, the cart speeds out into the center of the arena they’re fighting in and basically spins and fires widely along the entire visual range of the imperials’ footholds, like a cone of blasts, while in the same procedure racing back and forth to outrun any counterfire, resembling a turret with wheels. The imperials have no alternative but to duck and hope to take potshots.

Though this pulls the regulars off their backs, Jov and Torian are not yet home free. And to be entirely blunt, Jov is in the grey zone whether she believes leaping around like she does with her pack now, can be sustained in perpetuity.  
This idea drops off a cliff when a tormented groan is vented from her mando brother’s throat and once she snaps towards his direction, she looks on how he’s staggering, his own vibroblade gets smacked out of his hand and the second Sith carves a line of damage along his side, in one of the more brittle patches of his beskar. He then topples to the road.

Jov’s eyes extend in panic.  
“Torian!”

She knew their duo couldn’t be at the Sith’s mercy in any large-scale operations, but this is bad. They now have him wide open and Jov is not at a distance where she can impede.  
And at the same time, there it is at a third instant, the mysterious impression which persists in prodding and partially agitating her with its shadowed and enigmatic spawning, with not a lick of instruction. She’s gonna run amok if it doesn’t-

Except at this occasion, it does disperse the ambiguity and shoots itself into the open. When Torian is at the ledge of despair, at his greatest crisis, the door to the building behind them swings wide.  
“’bout time!” calls Jov. “Thought you guys would-“

But her heart plunges into her throat when her ears receive the lightning strike and humming of another lightsaber powering up. No way. Did the Sith rumble their pals already? Mako ought to have flicked a channel on in that case, but maybe…  
It’s a lucky break indeed that Jov is absolutely wide of the mark. What swishes out from the gateway behind them is not a Sith, but a dark yellow-skinned woman with flapping lekku and a green glowing tool of war. She plops down right next to Torian, blocks the orange blade of the first Sith, casts the second away with a thrust from the Force and then beats the first into retreat.

Jov’s mind skyrockets with emotions.  
“Elusa!”

Elu’ravi has deposited herself in front of the prone and injured Torian, glaring at the Sith while she stretches her hands to the sides protectively.  
“You will not have him.”

Jov is not the only one in havoc by this development, for the Red legionnaires stare at her in a correspondingly disarrayed fashion.  
“A Jedi, fighting with mandalorians?”

“That’s right. And you will leave now, or you’ll have to contend with both me and the Champion’s fireteam.”

“Since when did the Jedi fall in with these brutal warriors?”

“That has nothing to do with you.”

“Elusa!”, Jov calls out again. “What’s up with you? Where’d you come from?”

The twi’lek glances at her and there are glints of conjugated entertainment and sentiment to her blues.  
“Are you not already privy to that I have plenty of allies in the Republic underworld?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Plus, I was…allocated some whiffs from the Force.”

The Force? Was that the pricking which kept Jov’s attention on its toes earlier, or…?  
“…what? That don’t explain anything!”

“If you can be mysterious, dear Champion, so can I.”

Jov is torn here. On the one hand, she’s over the moon to behold the lady that has really taken ahold of her affections and tenderness. And she’s never bad to look at. But on the other hand…  
“But didn’t you say-“

“There was no debt? Needless to say, there isn’t. But you’ve turned it on its head – this isn’t a reimbursement, it’s…being there for a friend.”

The mandalorian doesn’t quite understand how she can make sense of it, but whatever source it has, she can detect a glow from the twi’lek, one of candor. It drives Jov to grin.  
“Right on. Then, you wanna bust these assholes in the chops with me, babe?”

Elu rotates her lightsaber and shakes her head knowingly.  
“…crude, but yes. Let’s.”

The captain of the Red Legion squad is not enticed by their unity, however.  
“Jedi or no Jedi, you will not escape us this day, mandalorian. This farce is over – Legion, annihilate them!”

A restart doesn’t quite touch them, though, for a fourth voice hops on board.  
“A lightsaber ain’t cutting it, huh? How about some grander toys?”

The words originate from Shariss, which Jov can effortlessly identify, but the subsequent clicks are ones that at first botches her. What’s that all about anyway?  
This is only until it’s supervened by the rising noise of hissing, and two sizable, expeditious projectiles smashes into the imperial fortifications and detonates, discharging shockwaves of demolishment. Then, there’s Gault’s line.  
“Now _that’s_ what I call an investment!”

The Sith are shaken and astonished by this sudden upheaval of their condition, that it grants Jov a chance to not only get some room, but also blast one in the abdomen. She’s then aided by Mako and Shariss, the latter who’s now dumped the rocket launcher that she was wielding, while Gault is loading his own for a second round.  
Jov laughs heartily.  
“Found the big boys, did ya?”

Shariss winks at her.  
“They were sitting all lonely in a corner, so I figured they’d get to play with us instead.”

“Appreciate it. Although, you coulda wised me up in the case of Elusa here, to be fair.”

The agent glimpses at the twi’lek, who’s jumping into her own dust-up.  
“Sorry, but you’re misdirecting that. Only met her a couple of minutes ago, and I certainly wasn’t the one who touched base with her. Must’ve been another operative.”

Whilst Mako is patching up Torian, Elu and Gault are fending off the two Sith on their side.  
“I’m a friend of Shan’s mother”, mentions the Jedi. “I may have reached out to her.”

On the other end, Blizz has oriented his special racing turret at the Sith, giving them more trouble, and Shariss lays in a shot on one of their legs, before laughing.  
“Hah! ‘course you are. Leave it to him to snoop on me. Never could mind his own business.”

Presently, Jov feels out of the loop.  
“…what?”

But Shariss does not fill her in.  
“Let’s mop up these chumps and then you better reveal word for word what miss Nine has been blabbing.”


	12. Peace clouds

Jovana’s life on a hutt moon within the first two decades of her existence did not afford her any healthy doses of nature-delving or sojourns by way of compact vegetation. The main dish of traversal for her alternated between metal and concrete, slathered in grease, specks of gasoline and bodily fluids, expended from assorted species in processes that she often pretended not to ruminate on, for it might induce some rather unpleasant imagery or worse, make her retch. Not for what these species themselves were able to exude naturally, but rather what the citizens – particularly hutt goons – were liable to enact on those who did not submit to their wills. A simple kill was not the worst in the slightest.

Once she grew up, she plainly outgrew such squeamishness, as Nar Shaddaa gouged it out of her, but the scars are never smoothly dislodged. It also can’t provide her with any vocabulary for how to judge planets such as the one she’s travelled to today, full to the brim in tall, colorful, but also oblique and moss-covered trees, luminous plant life, far-flung roars of unregistered predators and desultory thrashing racket of winged beings somewhere in the asymmetrical canopy. It’s not that this environment impels her to sweat bullets, but for lack of a better term, Jov is a ‘city girl’ through and through. It’s what she’d be judged as in her ganger days, and it’s the main hub of activity for bounty hunters.

However, in line with her years on the streets and as a standout bounty hunter, she is not working alone – she’s brought five people, four of them mandalorians. In coordination, they’ve made their way to the Japrael system in the Inner Rim of the galaxy, operating a mando freighter that she was loaned from her clan. Although strictly speaking, mandalorian clans share everything. What’s theirs is hers and vice versa. You provide for the clan and it provides for you, as the Resol’nare promises. That’s why substantial chunks of her credits from bounties go to the clan’s digital coffers and clan Lok is on quite a high.

The significance of this voyage was to bring them to a private conference that is to unfold a few miles south of husks from facilities that used to be operated centuries ago. It is an open chasm in the forest, a glade where the predators of this world – or moon, to be more veracious – may not be as prevalent. This satellite is by no means a hospitable ecology, and the people who hail from the world which it is bound to, make a severe point of rarely visiting, despite the planet’s own ferocious fauna. It is dubbed the ‘Demon Moon’ for a reason.

The call for this meetup was fielded by none other than Elu’ravi, one who’s now entered an eminent class in the galaxy, of those who Jov will without let or hindrance listen to and accommodate. The others on that list include Cierah, Bery, her team and her clan. To have a Jedi lodged in that ensemble…it is a first, but also remarkably sating.

As they breach the skirts of the little parcel in here, they are not the earliest to reach it, for across from them, another team lays their cards on the table. One is Elu’ravi, as stated, but in conjunction with a mirialan that Jov has grown familiar and friendly with - SIS agent Shariss Kartur. This duo keeps five armed and armored troops behind them, with blazoned Republic emblems on their shoulders. Must be some form of special ops.  
Upon defining them, it’s out of Jov’s control when her yellows are pulled at the ample-shaped twi’lek, treading forward in her classic, and yet tasteful brown robes, which tosses in the light wind. Jov isn’t so much approving of it as simply going on autopilot. Her eyes are left to their own devices, to bathe in the Jedi’s wondrous curves, and they aren’t appealing to her for concession.

Once they advance into less disconnected dimensions, Elu’s gaze fuses with Jov’s, almost like it was preprogrammed, or a constitutive aspect of their beings. It just ensues.  
Jov can’t altogether read Elu’s state of mind at this stage either. She does not possess expertise with the Force and the twi’lek’s own expression is…toneless, or along those lines. She’s keeping herself hard to interpret.

The one to welcome them is Shariss, who waves and takes the wraps off a genial smile.  
“It’s ‘grand’ to see you again, Champion.” Jov spins her eyes in a tepid manner. “Been a few months since that hairy snag on Dookar En, huh?”

Now finally acknowledging that Elu isn’t here on her own, Jov crosses her arms below her chest and smirks at the agent.  
“Yeah. Haven’t repressed the memories from that tanked mission so far.”

Shariss face sinks into bemusement.  
“Tanked? We cleared it! Don’t go minimizing my accomplishments now, or I can get into some nasty things. Have my hands on a wide scope of contacts that can make your life a nightmare, as well as reputation-spoiling HoloNet finesse out the wazoo.”

“Tsk. Not spooked by that one bit, Kartur. You already know I got my girl Mako - she’s second to none. And as for buddies, I’m sitting on imperial agents, Sith, mandalorians and bounty hunters in three outta four corners of the galaxy. Plus, lest you forget, I’m looped in on who’s got the ticket to your pants.”

Though it is not hateful or overly virulent, Shariss does glare at her.  
“…you better shut that mouth right quick.”

“Should I give ‘er a cal-“

“I’d like very much not to draw my gun right now, Vlasic.”

Jov chuckles, though some of this show is a testament to the fact that Jov herself is a no-hoper in solemn scenarios. She usually gravitates towards cracking wise at it.  
Elu, who’s a tad nescient of what this picture carries, chooses to nick some of Jov’s concentration.  
“I too am pleased you’re in good health, miss Vlasic, and that you could cut across the galaxy to this region of space.”

Unlike Shariss, Elu’s pitch embodies another class of aroma, which doesn’t get Jov instantly down to business, but tops up her mentality with an abnormally gratifying sensibility, as if her whole physique slows down and relieves her of inessential anxiety.  
“Well, you were knocking. I’d never leave you hanging.” And again, it’s nearly comical how Jov’s heart wobbles when Elu’s lips loop upward and her eyes dazzle with satisfaction.  
To keep herself busy, Jov waves at the party on her rear.  
“Took as big of a detachment with me as you guys proposed. Some are my ner vod from clan Lok – this is Neeraka, Vyrix and Tendarr.”

The trio which she nods to is in beskar’gam, the trademark gear of the mandalorian people, but they are not donning their helmets. Consequently, Elu and Shariss can perceive the first being a tall, bulky trandoshan with dark green scales and a massive brown armor, his eyes a reptilian yellow.  
The one in the middle is the smallest, a light green-colored mirialan, outfitted in slim orange beskar, with striped black square markings on her cheeks, forehead and chin, dark blue gaze and short, stylishly sideswept brown hair. She’s arguably young, odds are in the late teens, but her stance – which practically emulates the Champion – tries to peg her as a hard-nosed young lady.  
If Neeraka looks more casual and Vyrix suspicious, then Tendarr – a fair-skinned male human adorned with shoulder-length black hair in a condensed ponytail and encompassed by a medium-heavy navy blue armor – is located at an intermediate seat, his hands on his hips.

“And the last two you’re caught up with by now – Torian and Mako.”

The slicer flashes a smirk and winks at them.  
“Uh-huh. Lady SIS here was damned ecstatic by how well I had slicing on lockdown.”

Shariss shrugs offhandedly.  
“Let’s not overdo it, kid.”

“Wha-...how dare-…we’re almost the same age!”

“I’m closer to your boss’ range than you.”

Torian, however, dips his head at Elu and shuts his fist to lay on his chestplate.  
“Mando’ad draar digu. Still owe you one, master Jedi.”

Elu stares gladly at him.  
“You’re miss Vlasic’s comrade and effectively her brother, mister Cadera. There is nothing to settle.”

Shariss lifts her hand to beckon at the troops who’re hitched to them.  
“This is a fraction of Maelstrom squad, one of the Republic’s select few score of special forces. But you can give ‘em a pass, as they’re just here to level things out.”

Gesturing with a finger from them to her, Shariss steps into the center, and the twi’lek plus Jov follow suit, so that they can converge no more than three meters off. The rest stay put, but well within hearing distance.  
“We came as requested”, says Jov, “although I got no idea what we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

Elu nods with respect.  
“I appreciate that you dropped in without regard to this.”

Shariss deploys a hand to her left hip, standing faintly slanted.  
“We invited you here because there are some rising subjects which have recently gotten into the cards, for the fact that you have been in touch with a climbing pool of Republic peeps.”

Jov scratches her neck.  
“Uh, yeah? Is that so terrible?”

“Oh, no no! On the contrary, your friendship with Elu’ravi and myself, it’s opened up…new possibilities. Calculations that we’d permanently reckoned were unthinkable, but…now there’s a fighting chance.”

At this phase, Tendar grunts with thin distaste.  
“Hmph. You reps have a weird sense of humor.”

“You can say that again”, Neeraka concurs.

The Grand Champion takes a looksee over her shoulder.  
“What’re you on about?”

Tendarr peers at her with bewildered scrutiny.  
“Are you serious? You’ve not read up on this world?”

“Not exactly, no. History ain’t my field. You called it uh, Dix…something.”

“Dxun, the moon of Onderon, one of the territories where the alleged ‘Mandalorian Wars’ were fought centuries back – where we had our shots against the Jedi.”

Neeraka adds a twist.  
“This is where we were broken, where our impending loss was truly sensed.”

Jov chews on this nugget of breaking intel and then stares at Elu and Shariss, expecting answers. This is where it’s the Republic’s round to be narrowly flustered.  
“Erm, yeah”, Shariss admits, “this was one of the battlefields, which itself had quite a bit of substance to it, but…well, being frank for a moment, this was a symbolic call. We sought to confer on friendly terms and this world could potentially command increased gravitas, with history in the backdrop. Mandalorians grok the central element of this too, right?”

Vyrix frowns to a faint degree, Neeraka shrugs and Tendarr grumbles.  
“Fair play, I guess…”

Their de facto leader nods concurringly.  
“Can’t dig any faults with it myself, so you’re all good to go with me, Kartur.”

However, Elu does not wish to rest this case.  
“There’s a larger historical spectrum to this as well. This moon wasn’t solely the realm for the mandalorians’ collapse, but these are the lands where they and the Republic found the rays to an independent morning sun. Amid the Onderon Civil War a decade down the line, a small contingent of Jedi and Republic forces joined sides with Mandalore the Preserver and his own diminutive amount of warriors, in addition to the royalists, to oppose and subdue the Onderon Separatists and their Sith Masters.”

Jov’s sight focuses with fixation.  
“The Preserver? Now that’s a man I can put my finger on – Canderous Ordo. Heard some of the clans cite him for plenty o’ reasons. We call him ‘Te Taylir Mand’alor’.”  
Elu is encouraged by Jov’s recognition and is optimistic that this can be a respectable starting point.  
“But while I can cop to this knowledge, his existence isn’t all roses. There’ve been controversies, quarrels, and even straight up minor wars which center on this guy. Couple of decades back, mandalorians collided on whether to support the Empire or the Republic, all thanks to that Mandalore the Preserver had been a Republic advocate. But with Mandalore the Lesser leashed to the Empire, there was a change. Sure, he amounted to nothing beyond the lowly ass tool he wound up as, but what he did manage to complete was rebuilding the old grudges, the old hatred of the Republic. Lotta clans haven’t overlooked that the Republic and the Jedi were the ones that totally owned ‘em in the wars and therefore didn’t mind scooping up the creds that the imps threw at ‘em. Under Mandalore the Vindicated, they are more well-paid than ever, raking in good creds on a regular basis, but sadly not all that welcoming to Rep coffers, besides raiding ‘em.”

There’s a dormant five seconds or so, until Shariss breathes out a sliver of a laugh.  
“And you said history wasn’t your thing?”

“I’m not claiming that you would be required to hoist Republic banners anywhere”, argues Elu, “but we have brought a proposal which could be constructive to both our peoples.”

Jov curiously cants her head to the right.  
“Okay, what is it then? I’m willing and able to hear ya out.”

Shariss then slightly takes over.  
“We’re here to talk terms.”

“What kinda terms?”

“Peace between the mandalorian clans and the Republic.”

All of eight words, but ones with power and impact, which blows the mental doors of the mandalorians present off.  
“…say again?”

“Purely a discussion, mind you, not a well-thought-out treaty.”

Elu hops back in.  
“Our two sides have been at odds and shed blood for a tremendously extended time. I hold the belief that this must come to an end and in your hearts, you doubtlessly can apprehend that as well. What would it serve us to perpetuate it until we are both nothing but scrap piles?”

There is little else than a tongue-tied response from the four mandos behind Jov, and Mako only looks on nervously, but the Champ herself seems to ponder the ramifications, the allusions of it.  
“Hmm. In current affairs, our people do carry a contract with the Empire. Might be a pickle to wrest that outta their hands.”

“I’m aware of this, but we are not consulting you to shatter that alliance…not inherently.”

“The Empire is in a downward spiral as of this step in the war”, says Shariss, “and a great many aspects of that can be pinned onto the New Empire. But this is right on target what gives us grounds for the prospects of peace. The Empire might be way more disposed to it, if your leadership signs on the dotted line ahead of them.”

Though she hasn’t been a massive entity in this conversation as is, Mako now weighs in, all but butting in.  
“You say that, but as you gotta recall, it was the imps who got this war off the ground. To me, that would not smell of any realistically peaceful fantasies, in no small part since this war hasn’t been on for more than a couple of years.”

“The imperials are losing interest and capital like it’s going outta fashion, though”, Shariss counters. “There are powers within the Empire that are working on acquiring fresh funds and weaponry, sure, but a fair share of their baseline has dissolved. Plus, in case you missed the news, their Emperor is dead. Dust and ash, or at least indisposed, or whatever you wanna tag his status as. Accordingly, he won’t be in this game for much longer.  
What’s more, several Dark Councilors were dethroned or iced, including the ones who instigated this war. Left are ones that are leaning towards a ceasefire and maybe, in time, an agreement to end all hostilities, which isn’t farfetched. There are actually ones who’re right now in the top of the Empire and maneuvering to accomplish this process, which comprises Darth Imperius of Ancient Knowledge and the Emperor’s Wrath, as determined by our agents. The SIS has the details on who these two are connected to, but a colossal incentive for everyone else to get on board is to learn that the mandalorians are no longer inclined to go on boxing with the Republic.”

Tendarr adds his own voice into the mix once more.  
“It won’t be plain sailing like that, as far as wiping this friction away goes. The clans prevailingly won’t be happy to quit going to war with a rival they’ve held since the dawn of time. The Republic and the Jedi are sculpted as enemies into the insight of every mando'ade from birth or adoption.”

Aside from Neeraka having no protests, Vyrix glares at the duo.  
“And why should we put our faith in the honor of a Jedi – our ancient enemy – and what our Grand Champion has listed as a Republic spy? How can we be convinced that this isn’t a scam and at the very moment we turn ‘round, you won’t plot behind our backs?”

Elu, interestingly enough, catches a glimpse of how Jov does not undermine her comrades, doesn’t tell them to shut up, even though she is incontrovertibly the one who maintains the reins here. Is that an indication that she harbors the same concerns as her clan, or a clue that she respects them to such an extent where she wouldn’t do that? Either way, Elu finds it strangely…laudable as a leadership attribute. Jov is no despot, but a woman willing to listen and let her people speak their minds.

“We didn’t come here empty-handed”, comments Shariss. “To put our best foot forward and allure your peeps, I gathered that we were made to offer up some…grease. We’ve also had a heads-up that mandalorians wouldn’t care drastically for trade routes or Republic membership – but it is close at hand if you were to pivot.  
Instead, I’ve laid the groundwork for a more practical reward. I was granted authority to donate the latest scoop which the SIS has on every mandalorian clan loyal to the New Empire, and their whereabouts. Applied to that is data on stashes of mandalorian gear appropriated by the New Empire. I can cough it up in a jiffy. No charge required.  
Beyond that, if you can be counted in this to at least be up for debate on it, providing that a settlement can be met, the Republic could have a mind to cede some worlds to your clans. Uninhabited, but rich in unsafe flora and fauna. There are some chockablock with the kinda tough wildlife that would drive the Republic to, as a standard, designate such places as demanding unwarranted labor to clear out and colonize, but to mandalorian clans, they gotta be big-time treasure troves.”

Jov holds out her gauntlet to the mirialan, who lifts a datapad from a pocket and sticks it in Jov’s hand. The Champion then lobs the device across to Mako, who catches it in the nick of time.  
“Verify the documents on that.”

Mako flips it over in her hands.  
“Uh, sure, I’ll get on it, boss.”

Vyrix glances at the young slicer and then takes a mistrustful gander towards Jov, addressing her in mando’a.  
“You honestly taking this at face value?”

“Nope, not really”, is the response. “Wouldn’t have Mako checking it out in that case.”

“Yes, but…that’s still giving it a chance to grow.”

Neeraka rears his shoulders.  
“It has potential. It’s not everyday we’re thrown favors by the Reps.”

Jov’s vision flows from Shariss, then abides on the twi’lek for two or three seconds, to the interval where she resumes looking at the agent, voicing her thoughts in Basic anew.  
“There might be something to be said for this.”

The mirialan sets a hand on her other hip this time.  
“As a caveat, this isn’t a pledge, only a talk. I’d like to ask you to take word to your Mandalore. You were recruited by him, correct?”

“Got that right.”

Quite unexpected, Neeraka intervenes and shakes his head.  
“Your facts are faulty. Jovana wasn’t recruited, if you go into detail – she was adopted by Mand’alor.”

This is a relatively eye-opening unveiling and the two women are similarly stunned by it, but Elu trumps the agent somewhat, her eyes shot wide.  
“Hold everything. Mandalore is…your _father_?”

Jov’s expression twitches barely noticeably in a humbled spirit and tugs at her collar of her armor.  
“Uh…I mean…yeah. If you’re talking in like, a literal sense. He uh, adopted me after the Great Hunt.”

Elu’s gaze skips left and right searchingly and bafflingly.  
“That’s…”  
She looks lost for words, beset by this impenetrable new world.

Shariss is more modest, although it does inevitably pull at her.  
“Then he trusts you, doesn’t he? Listens to you. If these words are carried from your mouth, his ears’ll be open.”

The Champion doesn’t outright play into this, but she’s plugged in on the fact that Shariss is not naïve. Artus Lok is fond of Jov and has been since the day they first met. But though the agent’s words are sound, the one which Jov has eyes for is Elu. In fact, this has been keeping up for longer than most would deem healthy. She has been ready to get pushed over numerous edges for this Jedi, from mobilizing dozens of clans to break a siege, to inundating herself in obligations to the clandestine leagues in the galaxy.

Within seconds, the two have set about staring intensely and silently at one another, all but heartfeltly for a bit. Then, Jov revives the dialogue.  
“This begs the question – is this what you want?”, she asks the Jedi. “Properly, that is.”

To her credit, Elu does not take this lightly. She conveys the impression of digging into deep thought on it, weighing her options and how to best answer Jov truthfully. With her mind fixed, she nods.  
“Yes, it is. I’m abundantly aware that the mandalorians and the Republic, with accentuation on the Jedi, have defied one another for generations. But there was a time with Mandalore the Preserver, a tiny cog in the machine of the galaxy’s timeline, where the two of us were regarded as allies, or even kin, struggled alongside each other against perils of the dark. That era is borderline omitted from the collective consciousness, but not by the Jedi Order. I can’t say if it will ever contain a rebirth, but…I’d enjoy it if peace as a concept would find ground. Then, perhaps, we’d have a tomorrow to watch for.”

The mandalorian inclines her head sharply.  
“That’s everything I need to hear.” She then addresses both. “I’ll bring it to Mand’alor. If it’s something that’ll pay off, he’s the one who can distinguish that. Regardless, it’s gonna be received.”

Here and now, Elu gets struck like a household of bricks. This was a test, to determine where they stood, how much they can stretch this nascent relationship of theirs. And Jov has smashed it, utterly and completely, to where Elu isn’t certain whether she’s dreaming or not. Jov would handle anything for the Jedi, no ifs, ands or buts. Is this a leftover reflex from her guilt at slaying master Seros, or is Jov trying to establish her sincerity and reliability, to what lengths she’ll lead herself and her people, in order to satisfy someone she holds dear?

By this stage, Shariss has accepted Jovana’s response.  
“Good to know. I wish you well, Champ. On the next event we chat, with any luck, we’ll finish this by shaking hands.” She then chucks her a fleeting mock salute. “Give my regards to Nine, will ya?”

Jov’s lips twist up tauntingly.  
“Tsk. And your love?”

“Hell no! She’d never lemme hear the end of that.”

Then, they split, being on the brink of casting off. But Elu has not armed herself for any departure, for in fact, she hasn’t even taken off from her spot. She’s paralyzed, staring at the Champion’s back. It’s not until Shariss, in sheer disarray, claps her sight onto Elu, that the twi’lek sounds off.  
“Jovana!”

She hasn’t employed her first name much in conversation, outside of mails. The hunter kills her speed and curves halfway at the twi’lek, being right on time for Elu to not just appear at Jov’s flank, but stick one hand onto the collar of her beskar, drag her downwards, only to drape the back of her head with the other and yank the mandalorian into a startling and firm kiss. With their lips interlocked, Elu’s blues remain barred, but the duration isn’t adequate for Jov to either assimilate it or meet it with the requisite value of vigor and delight. The variables Jov had predicted for this day were plenteous, and she even girded herself for worst-case ones. But that the woman she had thirsted for, possibly dreamed about, would eclipse her like this is…beyond this world.

No more than five seconds later, it reaches a last stop and somewhat reluctantly on both ends, Elu separates them, glancing cravingly into Jov’s yellows, to filter her mood. Jov has zero to supply her with, except a vigorous intake of air.  
“Elusa, you…”, she whispers, but the twi’lek gingerly lays two fingers over her lips.

Then, Elu collects something from her neck – a kind of necklace with a transparisteel piece at its middle and a charcoal-grey shard within the core, which Jov hasn’t seen until today. Lacking explanation, Elu grabs one of the mando’s hands, places the ornament inside and folds the fingers over it.  
“Hold onto this”, she says low.

“Uh…what…what is it?”, Jov asks, almost groggily. That kiss virtually sapped her. Is this what it’s like to smooch Force users with a more complex alignment, or is it Jov’s own head throwing her a curveball?

“Just safeguard it for me. For now.” She seals this notion by another peck at Jov’s cheek.

“But…” She swallows to gain some focus. “…okay.”

Without another word, Elu turns on her heel and joins a now smirking Shariss, leaving a perfectly discombobulated Grand Champion there on Dxun’s swaying grass.


	13. Color's dawn

What has she done? What in all the hells has she gotten caught up in now? Elu’ravi paces along the plane floor of her solo quarters in the Jedi Temple, up and down, from north wall to south wall. She nervously fidgets with her hands, her lekku coiling and spiraling in a close relation, her eyes staring off into immateriality. Her thoughts are boiled over by last week’s events, where the galaxy’s sheer directional node might have transferred into an open prong that she is confounded by.

The peace chat with the mandalorians was cohesively planned with Shariss, and Elu did buy the premise of it, although she was wholly defeatist on the matter of Jovana being capable of nonconforming the hardwired nature of mandalorians, of whether she was both conditioned and enthusiastic to be a beacon of peace in the chorus of turbulent cries for war.

And for good or ill, she managed to. She rose above it, stomped on the stereotypes of paralleled mandalorians and bounty hunters, ones which encompassed conceits that she would merely espouse her people’s passion, or what holds some kind of mileage for them. If nothing else, Jov is _trying_, which is beyond what Elu had honestly had faith in. How is it that the Champion continuously rallies behind her, breaks boundaries for someone like Elu, a Jedi pure and simple?

But then, at the dusk of the gathering, Elu couldn’t-…she indulged in primal instincts, a gut reaction that ran like a damn magnet. She even assigned her master’s necklace to the Champion. What was she thinking? Or rather, was she thinking in the first place, for crying out loud? This is on the mark for why Jedi condition them with restraint, with emotional discipline. This is the shape of occurrence which can follow when they aren’t alert and let their feelings run free from obstructions of intellect and rationality. At least, that’s what some argue that they are. The Jedi prompted by its scent can kowtow to temptation and just be…swept away. Then again, is this honestly such an appalling picture? What is the worst that might pop up?

In the face of it, Elu cannot accept that she’s all that lightweight in regard to her dissent and determination. She won’t be, not when there is a choice to turn away. She parks her feet, endeavors to concentrate and mutters.  
“I am not-…” She breaks to take a breath, her blood simmering. Now…  
“I am not in love with the Champion.”

Like a cry from within, an image of Jov appears in her thoughts, one that she can mark down as a shakedown from…was it last year now? How time flies…  
But it is Jov’s gun on Nar Shaddaa, lowering.  
“I am not in love with the Champion.”

A flash of a second portrait, the grinning face of Jov slanting across her on the wall at Belsavis, the day that dawned their cooperation. The Champion to the rescue…  
“I am not in love with the Champion.”

Her intelligence draws something new for her, when Jov was located on Thelader Impa, that nobody world in the Mid Rim. Elu was shocked by the severity in the human’s gaze, the belief in Elu. She was so strong, so packed with vitality. She was on the cusp of death, albeit would not surrender her trust.  
“I am…not in love with the Champion.”

And then, an encore of her salvation, grander than ever, when they swept down from the skies to Nila Harattel, to sock the New Empire in the nose. When the two hugged in stark thrill and solace.  
Honestly, while Jov bursted out from that freighter, jetpack burning and mandalorians from multiple clans at her command, to fight for freedom and justice, she was so…badass. So gorg-…  
No. _No_.  
“I’m…I’m not…”

And then, the integrity of Drookar En, hearing the information dealt to her by Shariss, what sacrifices Jov would make for her.  
“I am _not_ in love with the Champion.”

Her voice is louder now, borderline desperate. But this foolhardiness is what conjures not merely the sounds, but the touch, the intuition of the kiss, as though she is partaking of it in a repeated performance and fulfillment. Jov’s lips were remarkably delicate and inviting. Luscious.  
Elu then cracks and explodes in a groan of frustration. In one fell swoop, she elevates her hand and bangs it right into the wall, with the underside of it against the surface.

Inopportunely, she fails to acknowledge that the wall is composed inside out by solid and immovable concrete and about in an instant, she yelps in pain and clasps the other hand on it.  
“Ffff…flaming…nuts.”

That really hurt, and it was dumb to boot. She’d do well to avert her mind from the anger, as that is bound to give rise to the very same grievances.  
In lieu of drifting left and right, Elu traipses to her bag that’s been left in a corner and dips her hand into it. She pulls out a cylinder-esque device, a portable cooker and mixer, as well as a round plastic container with snazzy and slanted appealing text in Basic. It’s a ready-made meal from a shop back in one of the central planets in the Republic, though it upstages the MREs consumed by the military. This one contains thick shavvak noodles, greasy namk meat, a variety of vegetables, a creamy sauce and spices from the Inner Rim. It’s more than a little filling and gorged in flavor that practically drives Elu’s mouth to water posthaste, but she wouldn’t stamp it as a fundamentally wholesome dinner.

The galling factor of this plastic can is the stupid sealed cap on top, which is somewhat messy and arduous to pull out. One is supposed to grab the tab, rotate it and then yank it out, but it can be tricky in individual cases. These are mass-fabricated and thus can on occasion get bent and delay the wrenching process, which seems to be precisely Elu’s luck today. She twists and bends it, but it won’t budge and the longer it proceeds, the further Elu’s frustration exacerbates, to the point where she actually busts the tab. She exhales in exasperation and slams the canister on the ground, leaving her open to potentially bursting it with the Force and decimating it into a million-

Keep your head on straight, Minnah, she warns herself. She is not going to accomplish or gain what she hungers for by going into a blasted temper tantrum, now is she? There must be an arrangement for her to put her mind at ease. But how is she going to do it to a scale which is actionable and voluminous enough? What would master Seros recommend?  
Oh yeah, it’s right on her nose – the Jedi Code. That should do it, right? It has been pertinent and malleable to the Jedi for as long as one can possibly recall.

Thus, she fastens her eyelids together and concentrates, filtering redundant thoughts and distractions from the recesses in her psyche and swaps them with the commitment of the Force. She will recite a text that legions of Jedi have drawn upon for centuries to discern their tranquility and she has no doubt that this will bear fruit for her too. Presumably…  
“There is no emotion, there is peace.”

But syncing up with her meditational recounting, her head instills memories into the foreground of her functioning thoughts.  
_“Don’t wanna kill you, Jedi…I’m no assassin.”_

No. She won’t be stalled. She’ll go forth no matter what this damn living dream insists on setting onto her.  
“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

Like the ocean onto the beach, Jov’s voice echoes at the rim of Elu’s mentality.  
_“Fairness trumps fake justice, does it? I like your style, cute stuff. You’re a Jedi I can respect.”_

“There is no passion, there is serenity.”

In this instant, Elu is getting strained, going too far afield. Just like…  
_“Elu’ravi…this isn’t you. You’re not like this. You’re not the vendetta type. I can’t clash with someone who’s lost her path.”_

No, stop it. She won’t be undermined…  
“There is no chaos, there is harmony.”

Did she think victory was within her grasp? That it would roll over in a heartbeat?  
_“You were right again, Elusa - worthy foes warrant more than combat, if it’s the right one. Sometimes, they’ve earned your respect…and a helping hand when they’re in need.”_

“There is no death, there is…”

Finally, all but two syllables quiver in her lobes.  
_“Elusa…”_

Elu’s gaze reopens and her face is faintly scrounged up, her conclusions…ambivalent. She’s not unhappy specifically, but this is…  
Lugging her vision to the food pack, she at least finds a solution – for a Jedi, that strays towards the Force, and therefore she applies weight on it with her mental gifts, unsealing it in no time.

But as she fetches the canister and wedges it into place by the center of the cooker, a number of knocks on the door springs up. Elu blinks befuddlingly and hooks right, only to behold how Satele Shan has unclosed it and her face is one of disconcertment.  
“Elu’ravi, are you alright? I could sense a hint of frustration from you. And…a recent passerby overheard some thuds from inside.”

The twi’lek’s gaze is set into a downward momentum and grasps the hem of her sleeve, rubbing her fingers on it nervously.  
“I…yeah. I’m-…sort of. I think.”

Satele’s eyes trace Elu’s seated form and though Elu cannot descry precisely what is afloat in Satele’s head, it’s likely the human has decrypted that there is an inadequacy of truth.  
“May I come in?”

Elu nods, reasonably a tad more strongly than she had projected.  
“Please.”

The Grand Master draws nearer and couples herself to the Knight, an occasion which isn’t unusual, for the two have by now sat down like this on multifold days. For all intents and purposes, she has ascended into the image of a new guide for Elu, albeit less of a master than a mentor. A pillar of stability and harmony in the Temple for the twi’lek, to tether her soul against, so that it does not drift.

Satele situates herself on the mat in an adjoining spot and throws a condensed glance at the cooker.  
“What are you having?”

At this, Elu is a smidgen embarrassed.  
“It’s uh, one of those rapidly primed dinners. Haven’t eaten in hours. This is…a fatty one, but I just like it. And yes, I know full well that others have advised me to eat more nutritiously, but…”

Encouragingly, Satele does not disapprove or dismiss her. She sets a hand on Elu’s most proximate shoulder.  
“Choose what you believe is beneficial for you. Anything beyond that is inconsequential.”

The drive of it spurs a positive spin in Elu, who smiles softly.  
“Thank you, master. Can I share some with you?”

“I appreciate it, but I’ve had a light lunch. I’ll be fine. Feel free to savor it on your own.”

“Oh, alright.”

Satele tips her head curiously.  
“How are you getting along? You’re freshly returned from the conference with the mandalorians, correct?”

Here, Elu is mildly taciturn and laconic, as she stares at the floor.  
“Yes.”

Somewhat perplexed by this, Satele keeps it up.  
“Was it effective?”

“It was.”

“And miss Vlasic, was she…happy to meet with you once more?”

The twi’lek redirects her eyes apart from Satele.  
“She…she was. Very.”

Satele is growing more investigative.  
“And there were no incidents between the Republic and these mandalorians?”

“No. None.”

“Was…an agreement finalized?”

“Yes. She…intends to bring it to Mandalore. It might be fact soon.”

“And notwithstanding this, I detect a channel of discord in you.”

Elu forestalls herself for a moment, her intuitions mixed.  
“…yeah.” But Satele does not pressure her, patiently letting Elu take her time. The younger Jedi breathes in heavily, tensely, and scouts for a track forward. Maybe if she…  
“Master, a few months ago, you…entrusted me with the truth about your son, Theron. And that you and Supreme Commander Malcolm…”

Satele does go a dash tense in this instant. Elu herself was swamped that day. They had been deliberating on the mandalorians once more, and master Seros at some level, what can push Jedi to the edge. Whether in credence or a soft spot, Satele exposed it to Elu, what she and Jace engaged in one exhilarating night.  
“I know, because I trust you.”

“You do and I’m grateful for it, but…I was wondering erm, do you…” She takes care to decelerate and cogitate on her actions. She can’t be too forward, but also not aggressively cautious.  
“Do you love them?”

The discretion in this context which rumbles them both, and perhaps every single person in this building, is that this is a hypothesis one cannot deal with lightly in Jedi milieu’s, for tons of intentions. And this is why Satele’s expanded consideration of it, though longer than anticipated, is quite warranted. Though in some way, from the looks of her bearing, Satele is moderately stunned as well. Additionally, she looks downwards, at the floor, putting her mind into maintaining a contained and coolheaded exterior, to pin down her answer, where her soul lies.

“I do.”

This, in turn, fillips a flicker in Elu.  
“But…you chose to cut them from your life.”

“Yes. I regarded this as the right decision…the one decision. I had the sense that my association with them, my attachment, would be toxic to them…and to myself. To the Republic. They would be safer devoid of my interference.”

This unsettles Elu a bit and she bites into her lower lip for a moment.  
“Then…if you could relive those days, like…if you could resolve it again. Would you?”

Satele stares unswervingly into Elu’s blues, picking layers of her apart, though it is correspondingly unclear to them what Elu would favor hearing, what would impact her in a most favorable manner.  
Then, the human shrugs, focused on the cooker.  
“I…don’t know.”  
This leaves Elu shaken, in question of her own riddle, reluctant to conduct her road. What does she want?  
But the Grand Master gives voice to her own belief.  
“You care for her.”

Though it is nigh on imperceptible, Elu does narrowly blench, pulling her hands into one. She’s not astounded that someone confronts her, but rather hesitant of how to put this into sufficient words. She hadn’t at all the audacity to even broach it herself, for she wondered if it might lead her astray, but…  
“…yes. I do. She matters to me…a great deal. Which is a facet of the problem, in fact – I wish to go to her side, let her hold me, let her breathe her own desire…” She inhales feebly and strains the hold of her hands.  
“On the one end, I have an inkling that our…affection, our relationship could be something new in the making. Something momentous for us both, for the galaxy. A kinship of Jedi and mandalorian that hasn’t been lived in…maybe ages. Maybe never has. But on the other…”

She does not finish this up, however Satele ducks her head in acknowledgement, cognizant.  
“On the other side is a clouded landscape. I know. I saw it with Jace.” And now…  
“Jun would in all likelihood advocate that you wipe your mind of this extrinsic material. You ought to be true to your teachings, not get diverted by carnal and simplistic impulses.”

Elu displays disappointment to a toned down degree, despite herself.  
“Yeah…yeah, he would.”

“In some capacity, it is a wisdom, albeit conventional. But I shall not advise you to.”

The Knight is twisted once more.  
“What? But…” But why would this be unforeseen? Satele has reflected more than once, for months now, that she is above what can be perceived in an outer bracket as Jedi.  
“Why not?”

“I don’t believe it would help you along the way, not guide you to grow. Nor would such words wean you off the track you’re now sprinting down – this is a task only you can achieve, and with the sole condition of it being your preference. No one ordered me to take care of my business, nor can I decide this for you either. I struck my separate trail.”

“But…the Council…and the Code informs us that we shouldn’t. That it is unseemly.”

“Inarguably, but the Code is not an absolute. It is a counsel, a reference. It helps us stay intact, for those who falter to remain on the course of the light. For all its pretentions and meanings, it was something crafted and written by flawed, mortal beings like us, and therefore cannot relay to us the key to every question, each discrete impasse that we stumble upon. The Force is too fluid, too far-ranging and intangible to permit such linear thinking. In this instance, look into your heart, Elu’ravi, and discover what’s inside. There alone may you awaken to what could be your dawn.”

To hear her speak these sentiments, that the Grand Master of the Jedi would be so sagely, more discerning than the customary and binary Jedi doctrine and Code…Elu is boggled, in every respect.  
She’s discouraged at first, but then she sorts these emotions into her repertoire anyhow and lunges forward. She wraps her arms around Satele, to hug her.  
“Thank you, master. Thank you.”

At first sight, the Grand Master is mystified by it, for while they have been honest and deep with one another, they haven’t made a fast track to physical relations. But soon, she smiles and positions her arms along the thicker woman, one on her back and the other behind her head.  
“I’m always in reach, if you’re ever pressed for anything.”  
A moment or two ahead, they sit back where they were earlier and Satele stares at the machine with newfound engagement. It is now clicking, presenting its realized work. Satele contemplates her previous stance with added perception.  
“You know…” She then angles towards the young twi’lek. “You wouldn’t happen to have two bowls?”

Elu’s smile is salvaged, more scintillating than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Satele is quite a contradictory figure in her background, which I find very interesting and it's sad that we see so little of that during parts of the in-game story. I feel like that would be more visible in private, when she's not forced to be the public Grand Master, and therefore I wanted to show some of that in this fic. For anyone who's read Silent Crack Of An Empire, you know she will also appear in future fics_


	14. Yours, undaunted

“So, what’s the score?”

Jovana’s question shoots into the room, aimed at the two people who’re attending with her, in regard to this little gathering. The compartment itself is windowless and quite minimalist. It’s metallic and with a smidgen of rust and scuffmarks here and there, comprising little else than a table in the center with an assortment of handheld holoprojectors, a flat lamp embedded in the ceiling, datapads and a few guns that someone unloaded here earlier. The disorganization and the aging of the surfaces are earmarks of being well-utilized, which is standard for these transportable and foldable barracks that mandalorians employ for their camps that last longer than a few days, but are not permanent.

The other two identities in this square are assuredly from clan Lok, her own mandalorian home and family. The one standing on the short end of the table is none other than the famed Mandalore the Vindicated, Artus Lok, in his signature gold and crimson armor.  
Across from Jov, on the opposite long side, is another woman, but this one of a purple-blue skin tone, with lethorns sloping down from her head and two faintly curved and magnificent horns protruding from her cranium, her toned body bowered by a basil green armor – a chagrian who Jov can identify as Shevaj.

Her role in the clan is not isolated to being the grandest sniper they’ve got, for she is additionally a member of the top tier. Provided that Jov is Artus’ right hand, Shevaj is the left and she grapples with a majority of the day-to-day administration while Artus commands the mass of other clans and Jov hunts for glory. To top it off, she’s Neeraka’s wife.  
Similar to Artus, she was born into the clan and her family has had a central section of clan Lok for centuries – once, one of her ancestors was even the clan leader. Shevaj has gone down in the clan’s awareness for being organized, demanding and precise, sometimes even pedantic. But she’s also highly affectionate with them, always looking out for everyone – which includes Jovana, particularly as the Champion is a close friend of her husband. Even so, the two don’t get along on every topic.

Here and now, she frowns at Jov, unwillingly delaying the uncontestable. Then, she exhales from her nose.  
“Alright, you win”, she speaks in mando’a. “It was all there.”

“The real deal?”, wonders Artus.

“Yeah, from what I could gather. My squad and I dug up an entire stash of stolen weapons marked clan Wren. Posted them on a shuttle back to their clan of course, but…there was no measure of counterfeiting.”

The gist of the conversation they’re on is the intel which Shariss and Elu’ravi yielded to Jov, as an incentive. The Champion smirks triumphantly and positions her hands down the hips of her armor.  
“So, reckon that’s my point made – they weren’t shitting us after all. ‘magine that.”

Shevaj knits her arms over her chestpiece and stares with dissatisfaction at the Grand Champion.  
“We can’t be hasty. It could still be a ruse. But…”

Artus nods, being on the same page.  
“It’s at least a helluva start.”

“Mm…  
If you ask me, we can’t delve into any foregone conclusions.”

“Let’s not dismiss it either, though”, argues Jov.

Shevaj snaps to her with a severe glare.  
“They _are_ still the Republic.”

A ton of members in the clan would not venture to repel Shevaj when she’s like this, but Jov is not one of them. Besides Artus, Jov can duplicate this posture.  
“Yeah, so what? Unlike Sith, the reps at least sound sincere with their talks of peace.”

“Would this be your way?”, wonders Artus to Jov. “To sign the agreement?”

“It’s worth a shot. This war is getting a lil’ costly, isn’t it? And will we get what we’re after when we cross the finish line? You and me both know the Sith won’t wanna share the galaxy with us. Not their style.”  
Artus peers down at the table. Indeed, he’s not oblivious.  
“I see this as having good odds of earning us a valuable payoff.”

“I’m not doubting that it could, but I’m curious if this is you speaking, or that Jedi.”

Whilst he reverses his eyes to her, Jov’s brow furrows on impulse.  
“What?”

“Heard you two were close.”

Jov shakes her head joylessly. She can calculate who squealed on her too.  
“Tsk…Vyrix, right?”

“She worries ‘bout you.”

Yeah, and so does he, but she doesn’t speak that aloud.  
“Don’t be a dick”, she states, but it’s not of a hostile air. And besides, Artus can determine that what he’s uttered hits home somewhat. He can read her better than she assumes.

“I maintain that we have to chat with the other clans before we do anything radical”, says Shevaj. “If not, we’d make a major lapse of judgment. This isn’t solely a matter of clan Lok.”

Artus nods.  
“Agreed, but-“

However, his extension is annulled by the stab of a voice coming out of the door.  
“Mand’alor!”

A pack of four mandalorians barges in and salutes their warlord. However, in an intermediary spot of these heads is someone else, departing from their appearances.  
“What’s up?”, he asks.

“We captured an intruder walking past our perimeter ten minutes ago. Says she’s here to talk.”

Artus opens his mouth, on the verge of asking who this might be, when Jov’s eyes enlarge.  
“Elusa?”

This fetches his attention in a jiffy, and he glances sideways at her.  
“That’s her?”

Jov’s counter lags, as she looks like she has no sense of direction here.  
“Yeah, but…”

To her astonishment – and delight – the twi’lek views the Champion with a sweet smile and then gives her a cute little wave.  
“Hey.”

Jov appears tentatively dumbfounded as she repays it with the same.  
Shevaj cases the twi’lek up and down with an exacting glare, but does not comment. Temporarily, anyhow.  
“How’d you get here?”, wonders the human. “I don’t…I never rang you up, and you didn’t either. I think? I didn’t like, drunk-call ya, did I?”

Elu giggles adorably.  
“Sadly, you did not.”

“How’d you track us down then? Was it Shariss?”

Elu smiles and indicates one of the micro metal capsules on Jov’s gear.  
“The necklace I put in your hand.”

“…sorry? What was-“

“It was my master’s. Master Seros. My mind is chained to it, bonded with the aura that slumbers within, in equal proportion that I was with him. With it on your person, I can scout you anywhere.”

Jov’s eyes flicker left and right, as the burden of this presses onto her heart.  
“Seros’ neck-…oh shit. Did you-…but…”

She unlocks the receptable and snatches the necklace, to browse it. She hadn’t reasoned much on this item, for it was so self-evident – Elu asked her to safeguard it until the Jedi’s return. Why would Jov defy that? She’d never.  
“We tailed a small transport vessel which she made the trip here with”, the guards tell them. “She was clad in her robes, a backpack with baseline necessities and a lightsaber. Nothing more.”

Artus inclines his head briskly at them and then reviews the Jedi.  
“So, you’re Elu’ravi?”, he asks in Basic. “Jedi Knight and ex-padawan of Battlemaster Jun Seros? Got that right?”

Elu bows her head courteously for the mandalorian leader.  
“To a T. It’s a privilege to make your acquaintance at last, Mandalore. Or uh, wait…Mand’alor. That’s how it’s pronounced, yes?  
Your daughter has spoken highly of you on more than one occasion.”

The man now transitions from a field of mild suspicion, to utter shock. Shevaj blinks and Jov coughs bashfully.  
“My-…’scuse me?”

Elu lifts her head and looks conflicted.  
“I’m…not mistaken, am I? Jovana touched on that you had adopted her.”

“That’s…” He sidetracks to the Champion, who mimics him, as they grasp at an education. “It’s…accurate in practice, but we don’t strictly speaking tend to…” His sentence trails off. They don’t lean towards referring to one another in this manner in public. Well, not on a regular basis.  
He rocks his head to slash it from his thoughts.  
“What’s your business here, Jedi?”

“Oh, I wanted to run some things by Jovana, concerning…stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“A follow-up on our last encounter.”

Artus peers at his ‘daughter’, who scratches the rear of her neck. Shevaj is not so lenient, though.  
“A Jedi, presupposing she can just strut into our camp and get everything she desires out of the mando’ade? How typical.”

“Quite the opposite. I will follow whatever you determine, as I submit myself to your justice. If you elect to imprison me, I will not resist.”

Jov is impressed by Elu’s astute idea of the mandalorians – be to the point, be open, be decisive and you’ll have made a decent impression. Artus shares another gaze with Jov, who nods ardently at him.  
“I trust her. Pretty much to the same height as Mako and the others. She’s one of the good peeps.”

Shevaj sighs shortly.  
“You would.”

However, Mandalore shrugs.  
“That’s suitable to me. Okay, if you got Jovana’s vote, it’s settled. I’ll let this slide. For now, you’re permitted free access to our camp, but it’d suit me best if you stick close to her.”

Elu bows her head in a repeat performance.  
“Thank you, for your wisdom and kindness, Mand’alor. And yes, I intend to.”

“Don’t go spreading it ‘round.”

As a final reward, Jov grins at him too.  
“Appreciate it, dad”, she remarks and winks.

During the time at which they go on their way, Artus eventually redirects to Shevaj, who’s already staring at him. Her head shakes.  
“You spoil her.”

“Yeah, well…it’s hard not to.”  
  


* * *

  
With their departure from Artus’ base here, Jov and Elu drift out nearer to the center of the mandalorian camp on this world. For now, it’s only clan Lok who’ve slotted themselves upon an open field sort of in the middle of nowhere, with a dense forest no more than a few hundred meters to the south and a river to the north.  
“Has your clan dwelled here for any explicit aims?”

The human slumps her head affirmatively.  
“It’s the annual Merat’zhe – ‘Twin star spear thrust’. It’s a Lok tradition, where parents with kids of the age between ten to thirteen – or equivalent – who haven’t yet gone through the verd’goten, take those kiddos out for a hand-to-hand hunt on a fitting world.”

“Oh. What’s the…”

“Verd’goten? Rite of passage. Those mandos born in the clans all do it, roughly at age thirteen.”

“Wow. I didn’t know mandalorians had such...methodical practices.”

Jov smirks at her.  
“What, you expected us to be sloppy brawlers, the whole bunch?”

Elu blinks at her.  
“What? No no no! I…that wasn’t my intention. But…you…”

The human chuckles and pokes her elbow at Elu’s arm.  
“No sweat. Takes more than that to offend me. But yeah, ‘course this is what we do. Why’d you reckon we’re the leading warriors in the galaxy, outside Jedi and Sith?”

In conjunction with them wandering there in the core of the clan’s encampment, members of clan Lok pass them by. A couple of them wave or greet Jov, others ask if she’d like to check out things, such as newly assembled weapons, drinks, how their holomovie projector is working out and so on. Jov thanks them, but says she’s wrapped up in some stuff. Maybe later.  
These reactions hearten another smile from Elu’s lips.  
“You’re very loved by your clan.”

Jov pulls towards her and copies her manner.  
“It’s…a good place to be. Awesome people to grow up with.”

“You were adopted, correct?”

“Yeah. Raised on Nar Shaddaa.”

The lekku on Elu flick with uncertainty.  
“Ah. That…must have been awful.”

Jov’s head barely flips from side to side.  
“You don’t even know. That shitty moon taught me some priceless lessons of life. How to survive in war and battle, against frauds and thugs. There are friends from that place I’ll never abandon, never stop loving. But…what I hated was the loss of self. The shortage of…meaning. I mainly drifted, going from job to job, killing and capturing people indiscriminately for creds, for myself.”  
She takes a gander in the camp, at the armored and unarmored mandalorians, the armorers, the cooks, the cleaners, the painters, the engineers – all of them with work, but also as warriors.  
“Here, as a mandalorian, with clan Lok, I felt it. _This_ is purpose to me, _this_ is life. Earlier in my years, I found strength. But here, I’ve locked down…home.”

The earnestness in her tone, the tenderness and confidence of it, puts a loving expression on Elu. Instinctively, she wraps her hand over Jov’s, who blinks in surprise, but then reciprocates.  
“Do you have a room somewhere? I would want to chat in private.”

“Oh, for sure. Got my space over here.”

Jov maneuvers the twi’lek to the eastern brink of this post, to a different installation of barracks, this one elongated on the length, to incorporate extra private quarters. Jov then produces her own to the Jedi.  
It’s surreal and a tad inane, for though Jov has enjoyed the company of loads of ladies in her lifetime, this one strikes her with…a separate note. One where she doesn’t feel as can-do in the case of taking the first step. More appropriately, she’d welcome Elu illustrating where she means to drive this, before she retorts.

The little hive Jov has for herself is not unclean, but it does present a sparingly spartan element, for there isn’t an ample stock of junk and apparels to dot the walls.  
“You don’t seem to bring much with you.”

“Nah. Don’t spend a lotta time in here, other than sleeping. I’ve got other priorities, to my clan and friends.”  
The twi’lek’s gaze traverses the bed, deconstructing that it’s a one-person gear, but could readily suit two, though it would be snug. Then again, would this be so horrible?  
“Gotta say, you flying the lightyears it takes to reach this place? It’s…a lil’ bonzo. And off brand for you.”

Elu deviates to Jov, outwardly musing over this assumption.  
“You’re not wrong, but…” Her focus drops to her hands, and she trifles with her fingers in what Jov might typify as a nervous mindset.  
“What we spoke of…what you-…what I…”

Jov leans her head to the right, to form a greater sight of the twi’lek, only to assimilate how the yellow cheeks are darkening. Is she…?  
The temperature in here is embarrassing for a fair number of seconds, up to Jov clearing her throat.  
“Look, I…get it. I see where you’re coming from, or what you’re shooting for. And uh, it’s not often that I-…it’s not like this would shape up to be…like…”

And now she’s faffing too. She picks her own brain concerning this dilemma – what it is she wants out?  
Why this puts her on the spot is easy to grok – Jov rarely ventilates regarding affairs of this nature. She’s not a talker of romance. When she hooks up with a lady, her habits encompass buying drinks, flirting and then hopefully physicality. Not…this. Not sober and forthright exposure of heart and soul. That’s not what Nar Shaddaa grounded her in.

Fortunate as she is, Elu throws caution to the wind and then snatches Jov’s armor in the same vein as on Dxun, by the collar, and drags her into a more workable range. Stars, it’s all too hot when the Jedi takes the initiative and pulls her in like this.  
The two of them are swept into a fiery, hungry kiss, taking after the one from the days of that bursting wind. Where it differs, though, is how Jov sets herself into it. She slides her arms along Elu’s waist, with one hand bending towards the twi’lek’s fine butt, squeezing it fondly but poignantly.

This exhilaration fares for half a minute, or maybe more, but once they tear it up thinly, they hang close still, looking pleasantly and caringly at one another.  
“This…this isn’t too quick, is it?”, wonders Elu in a faint hush.

Jov chuckles.  
“Heh. If you’d hear ‘bout my previous flings, you wouldn’t be asking that.”

“I…erm, haven’t indulged in many. It’s…gone some years since the last.”

“You good with this, though? Your Order, the Code, so on so forth. Last I checked, they weren’t keen as can be on you guys having partners, were they?”

“Not by definition, no, but…matters in the Order are under a vast number of considerations, and it’s not all clear-cut. And further, you and I…are a special occasion. The Grandmaster is a mainstay in my life and she…is quite soft on me. She understands.  
Excluding that, a Jedi and a mandalorian together, in harmony? It could be tremendously, erm…”

“Hot?”

Elu giggles and tilts her head shyly against Jov’s chestplate.  
“Not what I was ready to say!”

Jov smirks, her yellows catching the wiggling motion of one of Elu’s lekku. She brushes it carefully, tracing smooth lines over it. Her days and lessons in Bery’s bed has taught her how many twi’lek fancy it. And it works a treat, as Elu heaves in air in fulfilment.  
“I’m right, though”, she voices huskily, and the tone, married to the caress, ignites an urge in Elu to haul her into another kiss, a wrapping of their tongues occurring in this instance.

Soon, they nuzzle their noses together, and the Force appears to circumfuse them, generating a temperature that brings them equal safety and leisure to the umpteenth degree.  
“Jovana”, whispers Elu.

“Mmm?”

“I…I wish to remain here. With you. Not just in the short run. I’d…care to join you. Your crew, I mean. Be a part of it. Travel the galaxy.”

“Hey, that sounds pretty damn sweet. We do have a spot open. Have for probably a year now. Lost a guy.”

“Lost?”

“Long story. Let’s just say, he was a shitbag and deserved what was coming. You’re better.”

“I…I would love to fill it. More than anything.”

Jov smiles to herself, smooching Elu’s forehead and her nose, which results in Elu snickering once again.  
“I’d be overjoyed to say yes and leave it at that, but…I can’t just rush it. There’s a lil’ detail you oughta know before that.”

“Oh? Please, go on.”

“Well, don’t freak out, okay? As is, I got a girlfriend. Her name is Cierah.”

Okay then, that…was not on Elu’s mind in the slightest. In fact, she’s so unprepared, almost rocked out of her entire world.  
“…oh. Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“

Elu makes an attempt at slipping out of Jov’s hold, but the human keeps her tight, securing it so that the other woman goes nowhere.  
“Whoa, slow down, hot stuff. Hear me out. I’m not telling ya there’s no way in hell between us. You gotta flip the script – I’m with somebody already, so if you wanna have a thing here, you oughta know. And also be comfortable with that, since I can’t see her going off from this anytime soon. We’re kinda close.”

Though she is relieved that Jov takes a stab at offsetting some of the horror, Elu remains unsteady, as well as discombobulated.  
“I don’t-…I’ve never been involved with a relationship of this kind. What does it mean? Would I be expected to…hand you to her at times?”

“It’s not that specific or like, scheduled. We’d just make separate couples. I’d be with you and then with her. A sharing, of a sort.”

“Would she…become my girlfriend as well?”

“Not if you don’t wanna. My relationship with Cierah is nice and open. Limitations never sat comfortably with me. Not in society, not in background, not in identity, not in jobs and not in love. And it’s not as if I’m alone – she’s got one other girlfriend at minimum. And you recall Shariss, the cracks we shared? Those two get in bed on an irregular basis too.”

Elu blinks and gains flashbacks of a couple of…telling moments.  
“…right. So that’s what it was about…”  
Elu partakes of it some more, to build up her own stance on this unusual romantic economy that she’s ended up in.  
“To me, this is clearly…atypical. But to be fair, I have caught word of aspects that border it. And I have no cause to protest, if it results in me sticking to your side regardless.”

“Hah, yeah, don’t you fuss on that. I’d be pretty bugged if ya couldn’t.”  
Jov then detaches her gauntlets from the rest of her armor, tosses them to her bed and runs a couple of fingers over Elu’s cheek, skimming the lines of her tattoos.  
“You can be here with me as much as you please.”

The twi’lek’s face brightens and she permits the mandalorian to hang down towards her, rubbing their lips into one another sweetly.  
While they bask in this one, Elu ponders to herself whether master Seros would berate her for this pointed concern. Would he disfavor how she wandered along life’s crossroads, cast her out of the Jedi for flouting their supposed ideals? Maybe, maybe not. But there is a ghost of a possibility that he would not only be forgiving, but equally happy, that she is endeavoring to fertilize a sense of harmony in the galaxy.

After fracturing a third time, Jov has something to ask.  
“So…you wanna uh, go get introduced to the others of the clan? Reeled in Mako, Torian, Blizz and Gault as well.”

Elu chuckles delightfully, which sends shivers of gratification down Jov’s body.  
“That would be grand, I think.  
Oh, hold on! Before we duck out anywhere.”  
She kneels down to her bag and fishes something out of it – a green translucent bottle. She smiles as she rises and unveils the label.  
“I…believe I still owe you a drink.”


	15. Suffused spark

A cloud of drunken aftershocks, stiff limbs and joints, warm skin on skin, enclosed in the significantly silkier cloth which dispels immediate shocks or recoils. When Elu’ravi opens her eyelids this morning, it takes her about half a minute to acclimate and to place everything into perspective, of where she is, how she landed here, and who this lovely and cushy body next to her belongs to.  
It’s when the brown exterior glides into her sight and those exquisite yellow eyes fall upon hers, that she gains an epiphany – the trip, the Lok camp, burning time with the Grand-…  
No. Just Jovana. Strong, fabulous, striking Jovana…and she doesn’t even feel bad on that front anymore, for cherishing this lady.

Two days she’s spent here now, this being the morrow of the third. Judging by the human’s angle, tipping on her side with the arm below her head to stay towed up, she probably aroused ahead of Elu. Delicate fingers brush a tingling lek and Elu curls her toes with thrill.  
“Mornin’”, says Jov with a mildly raspy tone.

“Good morning…” Elu responds, somewhat softer, but bearing equal dissonance to her throat.  
Jov draws herself into Elu’s vicinity under the sheets, nuzzling into her nose and dabbing their lips into one.  
“You’ve…got finesse with that”, she says and indicates the touch on the headtail.

“Yup. Had a couple of twi’lek girlfriends before. One of ‘em is still a good friend, this hot lil’ smuggler.”

“Friend or…’friend’?”

The joke gets Jov to snigger.  
“Nah, just a pal. We did bang almost daily when we were teenagers, but she’s come by some ladies of her own.”

It’s unclear to Elu what time of the day it is, though she does make note of the streams of light from the curtains by the one window in these quarters, intimating that it’s likely daytime.  
Speaking of intimacy, Jov is soon slightly upon Elu once again, caressing down her side and in one go, she digs them both into a broader interweaving of their lips, only pausing off and on to behold the twi’lek’s wonderful nude shape, the precise one she reveled in throughout the night before. Somewhere on the floor is an empty bottle – they’ve safely imbibed more than one drink in the past couple of days. The first night started easy, but swiftly procured pace, paired to Elu’s growing relief among mandalorians.

Elu becomes receptive of this when she bothers to sit up and in short order regrets it, groaning at the same time as her head is hammering with a mountainous hangover.  
Jov watches the twi’lek grasping her forehead and she chuckles, putting a hand to the Jedi’s shoulder to align her back against the pillow.  
“Go easy on yourself, cutie. I’d go out on a limb to say you ain’t geared for heavy drinking.”

“Yeah”, Elu moans, “think that’s safe to state.”

She lays herself alongside the Champion. In Jov’s hands, she’s safe, and by the same sign, her company.  
Now and then, Elu gets awkward in regard to her appearance, owing to her body type. She is not consistent with the slender shapes of twi’leks in the commercials, the holomovies or on stages. But Jov was totally indifferent to this aspect, and had a great taste for seeing and loving everything the Jedi possessed, which led Elu to feel welcome, adored.  
Jov herself isn’t majorly skinny either, for her figure is made up of a collection of curves and muscle. Maintaining her fine shape and training is a big priority. The hair and eyes aren’t the sole decorative alterations, given that her skin is rife with tattoos, featuring signets and logos, texts in Basic, Huttese and other languages, formats and contours of various concepts. The entire kit is low-level marred by downplayed odd scars here and there, and even with them, Elu suspects they’re worn with pride.

Stroking her fingers up the stalk of a depicted silvery flower, Elu whispers.  
“Yours are quite prolific. And outstanding.”

Jov flashes a tilted smile.  
“Thanks. Amassed ‘em for years, since I was a teen.”  
She points at a black silhouette of a head adopting a high ponytail, with the only differentiating component being a white eyepatch over what is discernibly the left eye, sitting under her left shoulder.  
“That’s Cierah.” Then, she tags a text in Huttese on her left inner thigh, reading ‘B+J to eternity’. “That one’s for Bery, the smuggler. She bit me there once, while we were going at it. Figured it’d be a laugh.”

Elu giggles smoothly.  
“You two were kinda silly, huh?”

The human smiles wistfully.  
“Heh. Always.” She then directs a darling expression at the twi’lek. “Chances are I’ll fix one of you at some step.”

The Jedi rejoices at that.  
“I…I’d be honored.”

Coming after another bout of snuggling, Jov pulls her arm forward and fetches her datapad from the side and clicks it, pinpointing that she’s received a message in recent minutes.  
“It was my bad that my crew had to break away so early in your stay here, but I got good news – Mako just pinged me. Reported that she’s incoming with the team.”

“Oh? Where have they been?”

“Weeell...it’s kinda on the quiet, but they’re dropping something cool as hell that the two of us better go look at. Definitely worth the effort.”

Elu arches her lips contently at Jov.  
“I’d be very excited to head over there in a short while. Should we share a bit of breakfast first, perhaps? Food and something energizing could really come in handy right now.”

A faint smirk strikes Jov’s lips.  
“Is that mainly cuz you dug Neeraka’s fried hnemex eggs yesterday or something else?”

Fortunately for the twi’lek, Elu’s unassertive smile and cute sunken gaze tickles Jov in the best kind of way.  
“I…wouldn’t say it’s dead wrong to declare that…”

Jov laughs joyfully and kisses her naked forehead.  
“You gotta throw that one to ‘im, because he’ll have the greatest shit-eating grin on his face. He loves when his grub gets props.”

Not far behind putting a palatable set of clothes on them both, they skip out to have a piece of appetizing breakfast, including a mug of stimulating fruit juice, Neeraka’s grilled hnemex eggs, a juicy sandwich and a plate of multifarious vegetables.  
When they’ve plunged this into their bellies, they feel a sense of ripeness for the coming events and displace themselves to the northern outskirts of this location. In this spot, they discover that they are not the sole customers who’ll be awaiting the skyward entrance of Jov’s party, by virtue of Artus Lok and Shevaj standing here already.

Jov waves her hand.  
“What’re you playing out here?”

Mand’alor nods, while Shevaj levels her right hand on a hip.  
“Mako caught us up with what you have planned close at hand”, he says. “Just adds up that we take a peek at the fruits of our people’s labor firsthand.”

This response doesn’t fully fall into place to Jov and she links her arms.  
“That’s not on the money, is it? You came here to keep tabs on us, guarantee there’s nothing shifty going down.”

Shevaj side-eyes their superior in a manner which drives Jov to assume that hit upon at least a kernel of truth. Artus himself tries for being a wall of sheer stone.  
“Don’t make an ass of yourself, kid.”

“What was that, old man? I’m not the one sneaking out to the edges, to flat out _spy_ on his daughter.”

“That’s-…you ain’t got shit to secure that theory, girl.”

“Oh yeah? Gimme one good reason for you roaming out here in a secluded spot, not holding diddly dick on ya. Huh?”

Artus administer a real stare at her, though not one that’s unequivocally bristling with footsureness, built on the fact that he has no rightly idea what he’s expecting himself to say.  
But he’s a lucky man today, for soon, the skies are thundering with the piercing blasts of thrusters and the churring of what can be presumed as engines. Puncturing the lower mantle of clouds and hustling through the open air, a vessel is making headway towards their location, one that Elu would tag as lying in the freighter-size zone.

It’s a jagged ship, with a multiplicity of sharp angles and flat, thin side extensions. The center is crafted akin to the barrel of a gun, demonstrably longer and taller than its girth. However, on its sides are retractable, quite smooth and lithe additions installed on 45 degree tilts in the arrangement of a cross, likened to wings on a dragonfly, which sport extra thrusters and blaster cannons. It cruises amid the air at an impressive velocity and undertakes a rotation of its body to show off, which grants those below an opportunity to take a gander at its striped patterns in casts of red and white, emulating Jovana’s armor.

Jov can’t resist the grin which springs onto her lips, as she’s all-out taken by the shimmering sight of the brand-new mandalorian-forged vehicle that flies around them. The Champion isn’t running solo in her amazement, for Elu’s face is radiant.  
“That looks fantastic. Very impressive!”

“It’s mandalorian craftmanship”, Artus half-brags. “A Teroch shi-class assault corvette. We commissioned it from Manda’yaim, our homeplanet, roughly half a year ago. Now it’s finally had its finishing touches clobbered in.”

Nearing the dirt plane that’s underneath them, four hatches implanted on its underbelly unbolt and extract robust metallic beams with thick bottom plates which operate as feet and they dig into the earth when they settle down.  
One further and quite a touch thicker hatch is opened, but in contrast with those containing landing gear, this is a ramp that unveils the entryway deeper inside. With half a minute’s delay or so, this door is unsealed, where four people march out one at a time – Mako in a black vest with red form-fitting pants along her slender frame and a datapad in one hand, Torian in his ocean blue beskar’gam, Blizz carrying his brown robes with a weighty bag across his right shoulder and Gault in the back, at present the snazziest clad as he’s wearing a dark green suit decorated by silvery strings along his arms and legs.

Mako parades a sassy smirk for them and throws Jov a mock salute.  
“Well, look who it is. Mornin’, boss. Got your boat all painted and cleaned up for the big day.”

“Hah, looks like it!”, Jov calls back. “Now that’s one fine girl, if I do say so myself. Gave you any trouble?”

“Don’t kid yourself! Whole rig checks out. I’ve installed the latest HoloNet software, transmitters, adjusted the levels, the whole kit and caboodle.”

“Knew you would. You’re the best.”

“I’m aware, but I like when you admit it out loud.”

Torian folds his arms.  
“The guns we’ve got strapped on are topnotch – two heavy blaster cannons, four automatic laser turrets with top-end programming, two precision hak’tet laser cannons and three basilisk missile launchers.”

Jov laughs fondly.  
“Sounds like you’ve hauled a buncha fun toys right there, ner vod. Don’t go nuts with ‘em.”

“Only simulations and calibrations. They’re in fine condition, though.”

Blizz jumps up and down on the way to Jov.  
“Blizz tinker with engine and it’s awesome! Hyperdrive and thruster power twice as fast as old ship and can juice even higher rates! Kinetic shielding strong as krayt dragon head!”

“How ‘bout that, eh? Good going, lil’ guy. Maybe you can work in some of ‘em custom jobs you’ve been dabbling with on your spare time?”

“Oh yes! Really make engine go boom!”

“Well, not ‘boom’, maybe, but…”

Gauilt brings his own judgment too.  
“There’s no need to fret, champ – I’ve secured an impressive magnitude on the cargo bay front. We’re sporting auxiliary cranes, adaptable containers, top-of-the-line containment fields and secret slots for the more…delicate type of stock we might be compelled to transport.”

Mako hitches her eyebrow incredulously towards him.  
“Hope you haven’t forgotten we’re bounty hunters, _not_ smugglers. We bring those characters in for others.”

“Mako, my dear, if there’s one thing that decades in the most lucrative and exclusive sectors of space has coached me, it’s that you should never hem yourself into one single category of business. Always have a backup plan.”

“Even if it’s that backup plan which could get us jailed?”

“C’mon, it’s nowhere near that compromising! Besides, that’s precisely what warrants a backup-backup plan.”

“…you’re hopeless.”  
However, to alleviate this weird episode, Mako diverts to Elu, posing a hand on her own hip.  
“Caught word of that we’re bringing a fresh crew member on board. Any truth to that?”

The twi’lek elevates her expression and then bows her head tactfully.  
“I am indeed the next woman to serve on your travels. And I’m…quite fired up for this. With a bit of luck, I’ll be a stellar asset to your team.”

Mako smirks at their higherup.  
“Sure you vetted this one, big shot?”

The other human flashes her teeth smugly.  
“Oh, you bet I surveyed her. From tip to toe, girl.”

The slicer suddenly alters to grimace and the twi’lek’s cheeks darken.  
“Dammit, Jov, that’s-…plainly _not_ what I was pointing to!”  
Jov isn’t bothered and she inclines her head back and lets out a hearty laugh.  
“Anyway, I’m gratified you’re coming along. Skadge is an easy act to follow and you do have great manners.” She squints at Jov. “Unlike some.”

“Hey, don’t give your sis that eye, kid.”

“Too late.”

“I share Mako’s thoughts”, admits Torian. “Watched Elu’ravi fight and she has some great moves. Looking forward to the sparring.”

“I sure we can have lots of fun!”, shouts Blizz. “Can show you stuff to play with, parts not even boss heard!”

Gault brushes his own chin in thought.  
“Hmm. Yeah, now you mention it, a Jedi would be plenty serviceable in all sorts of negotiations and deals. Thinking of those handy mind gestures you’ve got and all that.”

Artus butts himself in once again.  
“You guys set to start out right away?”

Jov grants a summary shake of her head.  
“Nah. Kinda psyched to spectate the endgame of the merat’zhe ahead of that. Acting on anything else would be rude to the clan.”

“Then I can at least stand to relay that I fully intend to chat to the other clans related to your proposition, Jedi.”

Elu dips her head with a hint of indetermination.  
“Uh, it’s the Republic’s offer, mind you, but I am mighty grateful nonetheless.”

Artus then points a finger at the twi’lek.  
“But just bear in mind – in case you don’t fend for my girl out there, deal’s off. This is nonnegotiable, Jedi.”

The Champion rolls her eyes peevedly, at the same period where others laugh, sweeping up Shevaj too. Elu giggles at him.  
“Then I vow, upon my integrity as a Jedi, that I will ever bring the glorious mandalorian champion home safely.”

Jov pinches the bridge of her nose.  
“Ah, you can all suck my dick.”  
This faint outburst spurs another round of amusement.

Shevaj has in essence softened up to Elu over the course of the past couple of days, markedly after the bender last night, where they split a ne’tra gal or two.  
“I suggest we double back to the camp, to supply your crew with some leftover breakfast, Jovana.”

“That would be splendid”, says Mako, “since I got the hunger of a nexu cub as it is, but no can do. Not yet. There’s one point to go on the docket – the boss has to make her call on a name for this fancy girl”. She motions at the corvette.

And oh yeah, now everyone follows her – though this marvelous skiff is mechanically and digitally green for takeoff, she does not so far possess an identity.  
Jov lifts her eyes overhead, letting them stroll along the hull, the edges, the notches, interstices, and closed exits to its outward arsenal of armaments and motoric abilities.  
“I recall what the Blood Fist was, what she gave form to. She’ll be memorized for all time, in the heads of her crew and in the records of clan Lok. But she had a kinda bloodthirsty quality to her, a different message for a different age. This baby asks for something pipin’ hot, refreshing. An answer you can downright sense pulsing in your gut with a dash.”  
She slowly cuts her gaze to Elu, the pristine love of her life, one who’s upending the variables and it curves her lips. The twi’lek is off course as to why Jov does, but she reciprocates the emotions nonetheless.  
“Karasuun ita’el.”

Her gang stares at her, a blanket headlessness to them, with the exception of Torian, who nods approvingly.  
“Nice one, ner vod.”

Artus looks at his daughter with an introspective exhibition around him, which coincides with the boff pulled out of Shevaj’s throat.  
“Doesn’t that have a pinch of cliché to it?”

Elu drifts to her.  
“What…what does it translate to?”

Instead, Mand’alor stares up at the ship and crosses his arms.  
“It’s the same name we gave to the day where the mando’ade leapt out into the galaxy for the very first time, post-settling of our new homeworld – ‘The spark of stars’ dance’."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Guess I was figuring the ship looks something along the lines of [this](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/43/60/bb/4360bbed4d85011a0cbfc3efa75a68d7.jpg), but a bit smaller and with attachments in the center, appearing more like wings that fold inward (with added thrusters and extra weapons), which also means they're intended to be slim like an insect's wings. Somewhat like an X-wing, I suppose? But bigger and sturdier._
> 
> _Anyway, this was the last chapter, so if you got this far, thanks for reading_


End file.
